Let Love In
by Lothelen
Summary: Love is never simple, especially when the Boy Who Lived is involved. Alison was brainwashed into a Slytherin mindset the second she stepped on the Hogwarts Express. Can one Harry Potter teach her how to be accepting once more, and maybe even how to love? HP/OC, R/Hr, and possible non-canon pairings. Rated T for language and minor suggestive themes. Starts in GOF.
1. Beginnings

**Let Love In**

**Author's Note: This is a Harry/OC story. It's book verse, mainly because I can't stand Daniel Radcliffe. I picture Harry as looking like Darren Criss in this story, 'cause he's amazing (check out A Very Potter Musical). This is kind of boring since it's the prologue chapter, but I'll be skipping to fourth year next chapter so the romance can begin! Please read and review, and I'll update quickly.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Only own my OC, Alison.**

**Chapter One: Beginnings**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.**

Alison Blair sneezed, her nose slightly stuffy from the smog filled King's Cross Station. She was finally, after a painfully long wait, about to board the Hogwarts Express. Getting her letter had come as more than a shock, considering her family was about as normal as they come. Alison loved her mother, father, and little sister Regan, and thought she couldn't be happier. That was until a mysterious letter came by owl, and suddenly her whole world turned upside down. She sneezed once more, and rubbed her nose. Her mother wrapped a warm arm around her, gazing at her worriedly.

"Are you okay sweetie?" Ellen Blair gazed at her daughter with worried eyes. "That's the fifth time you've sneezed today." Alison sniffed mournfully, her eyes watering slightly.

"Just a little cold mum. I'll be fine." She wrapped her slender arms around her mother's waist. She heard a small sniffle, and looked up to see tears in her mother's eyes. She gazed up at her mum questioningly.

"Sorry." Her mother whipped out a lacy handkerchief and blew her nose delicately. "It's just so strange. I won't be able to take care of you when you're sick anymore, now that you're going to a fancy magic boarding school."

"Now, now Ellen, you know Ali will be fine." Her dad gave her mum a comforting one-armed hug. "She can certainly fend for herself you know."

"Promise you'll write every week Ali?" Her little sister bounded up cheerfully.

"Of course I will Rags. I'll tell you all about Hogwarts so that you'll be ready when you come next year," Alison answered, hugging her sister.

As soon as her older sister got her letter, Regan had automatically assumed that she would be going to Hogwarts the next year when she was eleven. Alison had immediately loved the idea, and the two had spent the month leading up to September 1 planning for when they both were at Hogwarts.

"I can't wait!" squealed Regan. She turned to Ellen. "Mum, can I please go with Ali now?"

"Regan, honey, remember what Professor McGonagall told us when she came to explain the letter." Ellen said with a weary sigh. "In the case of muggleborns, sometimes only one child in the family has magic. I don't want you to be disappointed if you don't get your letter next year." Regan's lip quivered.

"But I'm sure you'll have magic too!" Alison intervened hastily. She turned to her father. "What time is it Dad?" she asked.

"10:55. Come on Ali, let's get you in a compartment before they're all full." Ali grabbed Regan's hand and followed her Dad as he pushed the trolley. As he began to haul her trunk towards the train doors, she let her eyes wander throughout the station.

A pudgy boy was being reprimanded by a very stern elderly lady wearing a hat with a stuffed vulture on it. A boy with dreadlocks was excitedly showing a small crowd something in a box. Ali's gaze fell on a black-haired boy wearing glasses, flagged by a pair of red-headed identical twins. He turned her way, and his eyes met hers. There was something striking about those eyes, big emerald green ones she feared she'd get lost in.

"Ali? Earth to Ali? It's 10:57. Time to board." Her father's voice snapped her back to reality. In an instant, the enormity of what was ahead of her caught up to her. Alison felt tears well up in her eyes. She threw herself into her mum's arms.

"I'm going to miss you." she wailed, tears soaking into the satin blouse her mum was wearing. Mum always smelled like vanilla, and Alison inhaled deeply. She would miss that scent.

"We're going to miss you too honey." Ali hugged her Dad and Regan. She boarded the train before racing to the compartment her luggage was in, and stuck her head out the window.

"Ali!" Regan was crying again.

"I promise I'll write to you tonight," shouted Ali over the din of the platform. She glanced at the platform clock. 11:00. The last few kids boarded the train before the wheels began to turn painfully slowly. Regan ran alongside it, still weeping.

"Goodbye Ali!" Alison waved like a princess, causing Regan to smile slightly.

"I'll miss you!" She shouted, watching her little sister grow smaller and smaller as the train gained speed. She felt a rush of excitement as she gazed at the blurring shapes out the window. She was actually on her way to Hogwarts where she would spend a whole year learning magic!

"Excuse me?" A snotty voice interrupted Alison's happy thoughts. She turned and saw a nasty looking girl with a squashed in nose. She reminded Alison of a pug. "May I sit here?" asked the girl. "Everywhere else is full."

"Go ahead." The girl sat down stiffly, her nose upturned. Alison turned back to the compartment door and saw two other girls standing in the doorway. They both sat down without being asked. Alison cleared her throat awkwardly, wondering what she should say. At her old school, she had always had no trouble making friends, but something about these girls made her uncomfortable. Deciding she should introduce herself, she stuck out her hand.

"I'm Alison. Alison Blair." The snotty girl gazed at Ali's outstretched hand as if it was covered in mold, wrinkling her nose slightly. She hesitantly took it, giving it an awkward shake.

"Pansy Parkinson," she said with a slight sniff. Pansy looked expectantly to the girl on her left.

"And I'm Daphne Greengrass." Daphne was good looking in a cold, regal way. She had black hair that was twisted into an elegant knot at the back of her neck and grass green eyes. The girl sitting next to her looked a tiny bit friendlier. She was rather ordinary looking, with freckles and long dirty blonde hair.

"Tracey Davis." Tracey gladly shook Alison's hand and smiled kindly.

"Are you a pureblood?" Pansy asked abruptly. Alison gazed at her, confused.

"What's a pureblood?" she asked. Pansy sniffed contemptuously, glaring at her.

"Obviously not." she spat. "I don't associate with muggleborns." Tracey glared at Pansy reproachfully.

"Go easy on her, Pansy. It is our first day after all." she turned to Alison. "A pureblood is someone who comes from an all magical family. _Some _people." Tracey glared at Pansy. "Think pureblood witches and wizards are better than others. But it really doesn't have an effect on how good you are at magic."

"It most certainly matters! Pureblood wizards are proven to excel at their classes more than half-bloods and mudblo—I mean muggleborns," Daphne intervened. Alison gazed at her worriedly. She didn't know blood had anything to do with magic. What if she was the worst in all of her classes because she was muggleborn?

"I wish I was a pureblood," she offered, hoping that Pansy and Daphne might be a little bit more accepting. Pansy graced her with a stiff smile.

"Of course you do. Remember that purebloods are superior and nobody will give you any trouble. Treat muggleborns with contempt so they know their place." Alison gazed at her with wide eyes, and Pansy smiled smugly as if she had graced the golden-haired girl with a precious seed of wisdom. Tracey frowned.

"Are you trying to turn her into a hypocrite Pansy?" she asked.

"Of course not," responded Pansy. "I'm only trying to make her first day easier."

"What house do you want to be sorted into?" demanded Daphne. Ali frowned, feeling a bit like she was being interrogated. She racked her brains, trying to remember the names of the four houses.

"Um, Gryffindor, I guess?" she responded hesitantly. Daphne gasped in exaggerated horror.

"Oh no, no, no, no, NO! Slytherin is the best house by far." Ali nodded. She knew you had to be cunning to be in Slytherin. She was sort of cunning. She once manipulated her best friend into buying her extra dessert for a week. That counted, right?

"I thought only purebloods can be sorted into Slytherin," Tracey said with a frown. Daphne rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, but there's always a first time, right?" Daphne and Pansy both had an excited gleam in their eyes, as if Alison was the guinea pig for a long awaited experiment.

"We could definitely make her over into a little Slytherin ice princess." Pansy said thoughtfully, looking Alison over. "She'll have to know her place though, as a muggleborn will never be as important as a pureblood"

"We need to get her some new clothes," mused Daphne, raising an eyebrow at Alison's worn jeans, old jumper, and dirty trainers. "She should change into her uniform. You do have it, right?"

"Uh huh," Alison nodded, before extracting her uniform. On Pansy, Daphne, and Tracey's insistence, she changed into the black pleated skirt, white button up blouse, grey jumper, knee high socks, and black flats. Daphne, who had a fondness for hair, then proceeded to treat Alison like a Barbie doll, brushing and fiddling with her blonde locks.

"Perfect." she said when she was done. Pansy whipped a small mirror from her bag, handing it to Ali, who happily examined her reflection. Daphne had brushed her hair until it shone, and pinned half of it back. It looked elegant and framed her face. Alison smiled, happy that she would have good friends when she got to Hogwarts. Still, she didn't really know how she was supposed to act once she was sorted into Slytherin. She didn't want to seem ignorant.

"Thanks Daphne," she said, somewhat hesitantly. "I really appreciate it. The only problem is, I don't really know how purebloods are supposed to behave." Daphne and Pansy exchanged smirks, while Tracey looked on, her expression somewhat uncomfortable.

"Don't worry, we'll teach you." Daphne said. "Remember, a sneer is a thousand times more effective than a smile."

"And you can't eat too much. Never beg for anything." Pansy added. "Ignore people who aren't worthy of your attention. You must always look perfect, even when you're relaxing." Alison sat up straighter, her eyes darting back and forth between the three Slytherins nervously, trying to absorb everything they were throwing at her. Tracy frowned.

"You're overwhelming her, Pansy! Let the poor girl breathe!" Pansy opened her mouth to retort, but was interrupted when a pale boy with silver-blond hair slid open the compartment door. He was with two of the largest boys Alison had ever seen, and she couldn't help but think that they resembled a couple of boulders.

"Draco!" Pansy crooned in a voice that made Alison hide a snigger behind her hand. The boy, Draco, shot her contemptuous look.

"Pansy, Daphne, Tracey," he greeted in a cold drawl. "And who is this?" he asked, gesturing to Ali.

"This is Alison Blair. Alison, this is Draco Malfoy," Daphne said quickly, just as Ali had opened her mouth to introduce herself. She was beginning to feel like a small child constantly being spoken for. It probably wasn't worth it to tell them that she preferred Ali to Alison.

"Blair. I don't recognize that name," Draco said with a sneer. "Are you a mudblood?" Ali winced, wishing once again that she was a pureblood.

"Draco, mind your tone," Pansy reprimanded, even though she sounded as if his tone pleased her. "Yes, she is muggleborn, but she wants to be in Slytherin, and she wishes she came from a pureblood family. Daphne, Tracey and I are taking her under our wing." She leaned over and rested a hand on Ali's shoulder.

"Well, in that case, I'm sure there's no harm in sitting with her," said Draco. He looked her over critically, and Ali shifted uncomfortably. She was getting a little sick of being scrutinized.

"Draco, what did you come here to tell us?" asked Tracey, exasperated. Draco's face lit up, and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation of the information he was about to give.

"Harry Potter is on the train!" he said excitedly. "He's sitting with the newest _Weasley_," he said, the last word full of contempt. Pansy nodded sympathetically.

"I heard rumors he was on the train. Thought he'd choose better company than those blood traitors though. The whole lot of them are poor as hell and breed like rabbits." Ali watched the exchange with confusion before tentatively voicing her questions.

"What's a blood traitor? And who's Harry Potter?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"Muggleborns are so ignorant," he sneered. Daphne reprimanded him with a sturdy knock on the arm.

"Honestly Draco, you could be nicer. She's trying to learn, poor dear," she said, gazing at Ali as if she were a beloved pet. "A blood traitor is a pureblood who prefers the company of muggles and muggleborns," she explained kindly.

"So it's a bad thing to be a blood traitor. Who's Harry Potter?" Ali repeated. Daphne and Pansy exchanged glances. Pansy nodded, and Daphne immediately scooted close to her.

"Do you know who the Dark Lord is?" she asked, her voice hushed. Ali shook her head. "The Dark Lord was the greatest dark wizard of all time. Nobody says his name, because everyone fears him. He could kill your entire family in a second, torture you easily, or even take over your mind," Daphne continued, her voice almost reverent. Ali gazed at her with wide, anxious eyes, drinking up the story.

"Harry Potter was only a baby when the Dark Lord tried to kill him. He broke into the house and murdered Potter's parents, before trying to kill Harry. No one knows how, but the Dark Lord was destroyed that night, and Harry Potter became the first person to survive the killing curse."

"Is the Dark Lord dead then?" Ali asked. Daphne bit her lip, as if she was unsure how to answer.

"No one knows. Some people think he died, but I think that's stupid. The Dark Lord was far too powerful to die. Ever since then, Harry Potter's been a legend."

"And he's on the train with us? That's amazing!" Ali exclaimed. She was begging to ask more about Harry Potter. What did he look like? Where did he live now that his parents were dead? But she couldn't seem too eager for information. Pansy and Daphne might ditch her if she acted stupid.

Draco and his "friends" (although they seemed more like bodyguards to Ali) had plopped down next to Daphne, who looked less than happy about sitting next to Crabbe.

"Honestly Draco, can't you get your own compartment?" she asked exasperatedly. Pansy hushed her quickly.

"Let him stay, Daph. He'll be good, won't you Drakie-poo?" Draco blushed, and Ali couldn't help it, she giggled loudly. Draco and Pansy glared at her, but she was saved an apology when a voice rang out from the hallway.

"Anything from the trolley? Anything from the trolley?" A plump witch rolling a trolley filled with strange looking sweets slid open the compartment door. "Anything from the trolley dears?"

Ali, who had grown quite hungry, stood quickly and crossed to the witch, ignoring the Pansy and Daphne's glares. She would eat when she wanted, damn it!

"What are these?" Ali asked the witch, holding a package of something called _Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans. _

"Muggleborn, dear?" the witch asked kindly, and Ali nodded with a sigh. There was no use denying it. "They are, literally, every flavoured jelly beans," the witch explained. "And not just nice flavours either, but nasty ones as well such as earwax and tripe."

"No thanks then," Ali said with a giggle at the silly beans. She settled on some nice, safe-looking cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties. When she returned to the compartment, she saw Pansy and Daphne glaring at her.

"Sorry, but I eat when I'm hungry. Besides, I'm not going to gain weight or anything. Fast metabolisms run in my family," she explained. Pansy looked slightly jealous.

"Lucky you. I wish I could eat what I want," she muttered. The group sat for a moment in awkward silence, before Tracey broke the ice.

"What are your hobbies Alison?" she asked. Ali opened her mouth to speak, but realized that purebloods probably didn't talk with their mouths full. She finished chewing.

"I ride horses," she said when she was done. "Jumping mainly, but I've done some dressage training. I also dance."

"What form of dance do you do?" Daphne asked, gazing at her with a calculating look. Ali reasoned that she probably danced herself. She had the build for it.

"Ballet and some modern," she answered. "I guess I'm a natural dancer, since I was born flexible."

"Oh really?" Daphne asked with a smirk. "How flexible?"

"I can do this." Ali began to fold both her feet behind her head, but Pansy stopped her.

"Not while you're wearing a skirt, dear," she said. "And purebloods don't act like bendy pretzels in public." Daphne stifled a giggle and Tracey whipped out a deck of cards.

"Hey Alison, do you want to learn how to play exploding snap?"

The train ride dragged on in a collection of small talk and pointless games. The sky outside the window grew dark and cold, and soon Draco, Crabbe and Goyle left to change into their robes. Ali could hardly contain her excitement. It was almost time. After they were all changed in their robes, an announcement echoed throughout the train.

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

The five minutes passed in a meaningless blur and the train soon slowed to a halt. Ali followed Pansy, Tracey and Daphne out into the corridor crowed by excited students. The kids trickled off the train and onto a small, dark platform. Ali inhaled deeply, appreciating the sting of the cool air against her face.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" A lantern bobbed towards the platform, revealing a man so huge he almost looked unreal. "All righ' there Harry?" the man asked. Ali cocked her head. He could only be talking to Harry Potter. Harry Potter probably knew all the teachers at Hogwarts, being _famous _and all. Ali suddenly felt a wave of jealously. Stupid Harry Potter would probably be all the professors' favorite.

"C'mon, follow me—Any more firs' years?" the large man was saying as the students huddled in a small crowd beneath him. "Mind yer step now! Firs' years, follow me!"

They set off on a steep, narrow path, stumbling and slipping. Ali tripped and nearly fell, before reminding herself that purebloods didn't do silly things like trip. She caught herself gracefully.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec. Jus' round this bend here…"

Ali immediately gasped, her mouth falling open in a perfect "o" shape. The narrow path had ended at the edge of a large black lake, and on the other side of the lake was Hogwarts. The castle was grander than she ever could have imagined, twinkling and towering so high up she couldn't quite tell where the windows ended and the stars began.

"No more'n four to a boat," the large man shouted, gesturing to a collection of boats. Ali felt a wave of nausea flood her stomach. She had always been prone to seasickness. Pansy grabbed her hand, and soon the four girls were settled in a little boat.

"Everyone in? Right then, FORWARD!" The boats immediately glided forward on the lake, and Alison clutched her stomach, trying not to think of all the creepy things swimming under them that very second. Daphne turned to her, a mocking smile on her face.

"Are you seasick?" she asked, and Ali quickly attempted to look poised.

"NO!" she said, for good measure adding a spiteful "Are you?" Pansy gave her an approving nod. The boats were approaching the cliff that Hogwarts was perched on, and Ali noticed a small opening in the cliff face, shrouded by ivy.

"Heads down!" Alison ducked, and couldn't contain a slight shiver of disgust when she felt a slimy green strand of ivy drag across her back.

The boats continued through the underground tunnel, finally coming to a halt at a sort of rocky, underground harbor. The four girls clambered out, trying not to stumble on the wet pebbles.

"Oy, you there. Is that your toad?" The large man was holding out frying-pan sized hands to the pudgy boy Ali had seen at the station.

"Trevor!" The boy exclaimed. Pansy sneered and turned to Ali.

"That's Neville Longbottom. You shouldn't talk to him, Father said the Longbottoms used to be blood traitors," she explained.

"Used to be?" Ali asked but Pansy didn't answer. She felt a sudden spark of curiosity. The woman with Neville at the station looked too old to be his mother. She wondered what had happened to his parents. The first years headed up a flight of stone steps. Most of them were pale with nerves.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" The large man raised a giant arm to the castle door and knocked three times.

The door immediately swung open to reveal a tall, stern-faced woman in a handsome set of emerald green robes.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," the large man announced.

"Thank you Hagrid," Professor McGonagall answered tightly. Ali gulped. She wasn't sure if she was going to like having this woman as a teacher.

The door swung open wide, and Ali couldn't help but gasp in awe at the size of the entrance hall. It was far bigger than her house (which was quite large) and lit by real torches that blazed with orange fire. The first years followed Professor McGonagall into the hall, crowding close together. There was safety in numbers after all. The professor turned and began to speak.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizard. While you are at Hogwarts, you triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." She turned on her heel and left the hall.

Ali smoothed her hair, extremely nervous. What if she wasn't sorted into Slytherin? She knew all about the Sorting Ceremony, thanks to obsessively reading her books and talking to Pansy, Daphne, and Tracey, but she was still ridiculously nervous. Ali looked around for a distraction and her eyes fell on the black-haired, green-eyed boy she'd been captivating by at the station. He was talking to a red-haired boy wearing too-short robes.

"How exactly do they sort us into the Houses?" he was asking. The red-haired boy answered, looking slightly unsure.

"Some sort of test I think. Fred says it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking." The black-haired boy looked worried and Ali snorted contemptuously.

"Are you honestly that gullible?" she asked with a sneer, and both boys glared daggers at her. Ali heard the red-haired boy whisper "A Slytherin if I ever saw one." His friend nodded in agreement. Pansy nudged her in the ribs, looking slightly awestruck.

"I can't believe you just did that!" she gasped.

"Did what?" Ali asked, confused. It wasn't like Pansy was Miss Sunshine-and-Daisies herself.

"That's Harry Potter silly!" Pansy explained with a giggle. "The redhead is Weasley." Ali blushed, but didn't feel particularly bad. Serves him right for befriending a blood traitor. Her angry thoughts were interrupted when something streamed through the back wall, something that made her jump a foot in the air. Twenty or so ghosts where floating above them, pearly white and transparent. They appeared to be arguing.

"Forgive and forget, I say," a fat little monk was saying. "We ought to give him a second chance." A ghost in a ruff and tights responded firmly.

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really a ghost—I say, what are you all doing here?" he asked, noticing the first years. Everyone seemed too shocked to answer.

"New students!" exclaimed the fat Friar, smiling down at them kindly. "About to be Sorted I suppose? Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old House you know." Ali snorted. Hufflepuffs were definitely the wrong sort.

"Move along now," as sharp voice rang out. Professor McGonagall had returned. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start. Now form a line, and follow me."

Ignoring the fact that her legs were visibly shaking, Ali got into line behind Pansy and the procession walked down the entrance hall and through a pair of double doors that led into the Great Hall.

Once again, Ali couldn't help but gasp despite the disapproving looks that Daphne and Pansy were throwing her. The hall was enormous, filled with five tables lined with gold plates and goblets; four for each of the Houses and one for the staff. Candles were suspended above each of them, floating without any support. The most marvelous thing by far though, was the ceiling. It was a picture perfect image of the night sky outside down to every last sparkling star.

Professor McGonagall was placing an old, dirty hat on a four-legged stool. Ali shivered in anticipation, knowing what was about to happen. Sure enough, a rip at the brim of the hat opened, and it began to sing:

_Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all_

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends_

_Those cunning folks use any means_

_To achieve their ends_

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a thinking cap_

Ali applauded politely with the rest of the hall, attempting to ignore the fact that her stomach felt as if it was inhabited by several live snakes. She wasn't completely sure she was a perfect fit for Slytherin. Did using any means to achieve their ends mean Slytherins hurt people if they had to in order to get what the want? Professor McGonagall was now standing with a scroll of parchment in her hand.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." Ali realized with a jolt that they would most likely be going in alphabetical order. Which meant that she would be one of the first sorted.

"Abbot, Hannah!" A slightly chubby, blushing girl with pigtails stumbled up to the stool. Ali would have sneered at the girl five minutes earlier; now she felt only sympathy. A moments pause went by after Hannah put on the hat, and then:

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. Hannah sat down at the table to right. McGonagall looked down at her list and Ali twitched. She had a feeling she was next.

"Blair, Alison!" Alison couldn't move. She felt like she was about to vomit. Pansy shoved her forward and she wobbled up to stool with extremely shaky legs. She sat down quickly and slid on the hat. It immediately fell past her ears.

"Hmm, you're an odd one, you are," a small voice sounded in her ear. "Very eager to learn I see, and a good mind for it too. Courage, and lots of it at that. And what's this? A desire to fit in? Very interesting. Hmm, I could see you as a Ravenclaw, or possibly as a Gryfffindor."

_Please Slytherin, _Ali thought with all her might. _I want to be in Slytherin._

"A muggleborn begging to be in Slytherin? Now that's unheard of!" the hat said. "Do you truly wish to be sorted into Slytherin or are you saying that because you don't want your friends to abandon you? Well, if you're sure that's what you want…SLYTHERIN!"

Ali stood, nearly fainting in relief. The Slytherin table cheered and Daphne gave her a thumbs up. Harry Potter, on the other hand, was glaring at her. But who cared what he thought? She was in the House of her dreams and that was all that mattered. Ali sauntered over to the Slytherin table, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. She chose a seat next to a pimply fifth year who gazed at her skeptically.

Another Hufflepuff and a couple of Ravenclaws were sorted. Lavender Brown became the first Gryffindor and Millicent Bulstrode became the second Slytherin. Pansy had called Millicent a friend on the train so Ali smiled at her. Millicent grinned back tentatively. Tracey and Daphne soon followed. Daphne immediately claimed the seat next to Ali.

"The Sorting Hat took forever with you," she said as soon as she had plopped down. "We thought it was going to put you in Hufflepuff." Alison dismissed the comment with a haughty flip of her hair.

"Of course not. It was merely debating between Ravenclaw and Slytherin." It was partly the truth. For some reason, Ali really didn't want to tell Daphne that the Hat had considered Gryffindor.

Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin the moment the hat was set on his head. Pansy followed in his footsteps, and the two were soon sitting across from Ali. Finally, the name she couldn't help but anticipate was called.

"Potter, Harry." Harry stepped up nervously, and Alison sneered. She couldn't help but feel the tiniest twinge of curiosity though, and she watched intently when he set the Hat on his head. It stayed there a very long time, and Ali wondered if the Hat was torn between two Houses, like it had been with her. Finally, after what seemed like a ridiculously long wait—

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Pansy sighed and shook her head. Daphne laughed grimly. Draco muttered "of course", and Ali nodded in agreement. Secretly though, she couldn't help but feel the tiniest twinge of disappointment that she wasn't in the same House as Harry Potter.

Later that night, Alison was sprawled on her bed in the girls' dormitories. The Slytherin common room wasn't nearly as glamorous as she had expected. In fact, it was slightly creepy. She was wearing an emerald-green sating nightdress she had borrowed from Daphne because her flannel balloon-printed pajamas didn't seem dignified enough. A piece of parchment and a bottle of ink were in front of her, as she was making good on her promise to write to Regan immediately.

_Dear Mum, Dad, and Rags,_

_ My first night at Hogwarts was magical! (pun intended) I met three wonderful friends: Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davies. They all come from important wizarding families and are teaching me all about life at Hogwarts. I was sorted into Slytherin House with the rest of my friends, so I am very happy. The feast was wonderful, and although I couldn't exactly send meal for you all to try, I did secure some magical treats called Pumpkin Pasties for Regan. They're delicious! Guess what? A wizard celebrity, Harry Potter, is in the same year as me! Apparently he's famous for defeating a famous dark wizard when he was a baby. I don't like him much though; he seems stuck up. I miss you all already, and I can't wait to write to you about my first classes tomorrow. _

_Love,_

_Ali_

She asked to borrow Tracey's barn owl Athena to send the letter, (she contained a squeal of excitement about sending a letter by owl for the first time) and quickly got ready for bed. Her last thought before she sunk into peaceful dreams of magic: "I feel like my life is finally beginning."

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.**

**Author's Note: Yeah, yeah. I know not much happened, but if you guys review I'll post the second chapter! I'm open to constructive criticism as long as it's polite, so please feel free to give me your opinions if/when you review! Thanks for reading!**


	2. A Not-So-Ordinary Event

**Chapter Two: A Not-So-Ordinary Event**

**Author's Note: Here's chapter two, please read and review! Aren't my rhyming skills amazing? Thanks to my first reviewer for your honest feedback. I fixed everything you said. If you like this, check out my Lord of the Rings story, No Malls in Middle Earth. **

**Disclaimer: I am not ridiculously rich, therefore I am not J.K. Rowling, and I do not own Harry Potter.**

"Alison, are you awake?" A mumble from under a heap of blankets indicated that Ali was indeed awake, but had no intention of moving any time soon. Regan sighed exasperatedly. "Honesty, Ali, you know that we're shopping at Diagon Alley today. Get up already!"

Regan threw the covers back, exposing Ali, who was sprawled in an extremely strange position, a chunk of blonde hair in her mouth. Some people sleepwalked and sleep-talked, but Ali was different. She sleep-_danced. _Popping open one blue eye to glare at her sister, she sat up and stretched.

"Aw, ten more minutes. Please?" she begged. Regan raised an eyebrow.

"Are you _begging_? You never beg. Or say anything nice," she said with a slightly downcast expression. "And no, you can't have ten more minutes. Get up and get ready already." Ali tossed a pillow at her sister.

"Get out of my room first, you freak!" she snapped. She really wasn't a morning person. Regan left quickly, looking slightly hurt. Ali's relationship with her sister had become rather…strained, to say the least in the past three years. Regan had indeed been accepted into Hogwarts, and the two sisters had been ridiculously excited. That was until Regan was sorted into Gryffindor the second the Sorting Hat touched her head. Every since then, Alison and her friends had shunned Regan, who had learned to ignore them in order to avoid the nastiness.

Alison climbed out of bed and stifled a yawn, beginning her morning routine. Stretching, shower, pick out clothes, brush hair, apply makeup, the usual. In ten minutes, she was dressed in a lemon yellow sundress, white cardigan, and matching lacy flats (even though she had begged mum for heels. Apparently she was still too young). Ali gazed at her reflection, gave the mirror a nod of satisfaction and headed down the stairs.

"'Morning sleepy head. You look nice," her mum said as she reached down to pull something out of the oven. She was wearing an apron Ali and Regan had made her for Mother's Day before things became awkward and tense. Ali inhaled deeply and smiled when she detected the sugary scent of her favorite breakfast.

"You made cinnamon buns!" she exclaimed. Her dad and Regan were already seated at the table, cups of coffee in front of them. Regan liked coffee but Ali refused to drink it. She didn't want to stain her teeth.

"I thought it would be nice to have something special this morning, since we're going shopping for school supplies," mum said with a smile. Ali wandered over to grab an apple.

"Pansy's family got tickets for the Quidditch World Cup. Are you sure there's no way we can go, Mum?" Ali asked for the thousandth time. Pansy had excitedly written to Ali about the tickets the previous week, and Ali had been begging her parents to go nonstop since. Her mum had said that maybe if the Parkinsons were willing to take her they could work something out, but there was no chance of that happening. The Parkinsons didn't approve of Ali due to the fact that she was a muggleborn.

"Ali dear, you know we don't have the money for that sort of thing," her dad said with a sigh, folding his newspaper. "Even the cheapest seats cost a small fortune. Besides, even if we did have money, we don't have much wizard money. Only what Hogwarts provides to pay for school."

Ali scowled and plopped down into the chair in front of Regan. Her expression brightened considerably when her mother placed a plate of steaming cinnamon buns in the center of the table. She grabbed one eagerly and took a large bite, savoring the hot, gooey treat.

"These are amazing mum," Regan said cheerfully, reaching for a second bun. Ali grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

"Watch your portions. These things are full of fat," she chided. Regan didn't put the bun down.

"But you're eating them," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but you gain weight easier than I do," said Alison nastily. Regan looked slightly hurt.

"Alison!" mum reprimanded her. "We've told you millions of times not to boss your sister around like that. She can eat what she wants."

"I'm trying to keep her from getting fat, mum," Ali said primly between bites. "I'm being a friend."

"Still, I want you to be nicer to your sister," her mum said. "Things have gotten so strange between you two."

The family continued to chat as they finished their breakfast, and prepared to leave for Diagon Alley. Being muggleborn, Ali always drove to London with her family. It was something she tried to keep a secret from her Slytherin friends, who all used floo powder. She hoped she wouldn't run into any of them today. Any meetings between her parents and her pureblooded friends' families were exceptionally awkward. She dashed into the bathroom to give her teeth a quick brush before settling next to Amber in the back seat of the car. At least driving didn't get her clothes dirty like soot from a fireplace would.

Despite having two witches for daughters, Ellen and Daniel Blair had never fully gotten used to the concept of magic. They became confused by things like entering buildings you couldn't see, barriers that you could walk straight through, and moving bricks that revealed alleys full of magical merchandise. Regan thoroughly enjoyed teaching her parents about the wizarding world. Ali just acted like their ignorance was an embarrassment.

The family arrived at Diagon Alley after the normal confusion ("Muggles can't see the Leaky Cauldron, Mum. I've told you a billion times), and Ellen quickly whipped out her daughters' supply lists.

"Hmm, it looks like you need dress robes Ali. Do you suppose they're going to have a formal event?" she asked. "You've never needed dress robes before."

"I guess so. Daphne mentioned that her parents bought her really nice ones. She said that they match her eyes," Ali responded. She hoped Hogwarts would be having a party. An excuse to dress up was always nice.

"Are there dress robes on my list too, Mum?" asked Regan. Ellen looked over her younger daughter's list and frowned.

"No, there aren't. I suppose it's only for fourth years. Next year, Rags darling," she responded. Regan hung her head sadly.

"Oooh, are you jealous?" taunted Ali. "Why do you want fancy robes anyway? Are you trying to impress someone? Oh, who is it Rags? I promise I won't tell."

"It's none of your business! Besides, who says I fancy anyone!" Regan snapped, knowing perfectly well that anything private she told her big sister would become a Slytherin inside joke within days.

"Girls, we don't have time for bickering," their dad chided wearily. "We have lots to do. We need to get you new school robes as well, Ali. I swear you've grown a foot over the summer." Ali stood up straighter, proud that he had noticed. She had finally filled out, thankfully no longer resembling a twig like she had in first, second, and third year.

"Ooh, Mum! Can we get a toad?" Regan asked excitedly, pointing to Eyelop's Owl Emporium. "Neville has a super nice toad named Trevor." Ali rolled her eyes.

"Honestly Regan, you want the same pet as Longbottom? Toads are for Gryffindor losers. Having an owl would be nice though…" She gazed wistfully at a handsome great grey perched in the window.

"Owls are nice," Regan agreed with her sister, something that rarely happened in the Blair household. "And they're useful too, mum. They deliver mail. Oh mum, may we please get one?"

"Tracey has a super nice barn owl named Orpheus. He's a perfect gentleman," added Ali. The girls gave their mum their best puppy dog eyes, knowing she was more likely to give in than their dad.

"We'll see, girls," Ellen said with a sigh, her tone indicating that she had no intention of buying an owl. "Let's pick up the rest of your supplies first."

They headed towards Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, the girls still begging for a pet.

"Hello dears," Madame Malkin said when the walked in her shop, shuffling over quickly. "Do you need dress robes, school robes, or something special?"

"New school robes for this one," Ali's dad said, pointing at her. "And after that's taken care up we'll start looking for dress robes."

"Well then, come here dear," the kindly witch said, gesturing for Ali. "Let's get you measured." Ali stood perfectly still as Madame Malkin bustled around her.

"Do you know why the fourth-years need dress robes?" her mum asked curiously. "Have they needed them in previous years?"

"No, they haven't. And it's not just fourth years," the witch said from where she was measuring Ali's waist. "All the Hogwarts students fourth-year and above have been buying them. Not sure why though." She finished up her measuring. "Come on dear, let's get you those robes."

After getting Ali's school robes Madame Malkin showed them to a rack of lovely dress robes in her size. Ali immediately began sorting through them excitedly. She loved shopping.

"Ali, darling, make sure you look at the prices," her mum reminded her. "We don't have unlimited money you know. And I don't want you buying anything too low-cut. You're only fourteen, after all."

"Mum! I'm turning fifteen this September. I don't want to look like a child," protested Ali, who was excited that she had developed enough curves over the summer to wear more daring robes.

"Listen to your mother dear," her dad said quickly, not wanting an argument. "Here, why don't we look at them together? I'm sure we can agree on something reasonable"

They looked through the robes, and Ali immediately fell in love with a blood red gown with a plunging neckline. She held it up to her mother.

"Absolutely not," her mum said firmly the second she laid eyes on the robes. She held up a lovely white chiffon and gold lace concoction. "What do you think of these, dear?"

"Ooh, those are beautiful," Ali gasped, excitedly running her hands over the silky fabric. "Do they cost too much?"

"I'm sure we'll manage," her mum said with a smile, happy that Ali wasn't arguing for once. They quickly paid for the robes and headed on their way. The rest of the excursion went as planned. The girls picked out one book each in addition to their textbooks (Regan chose _The Savvy Witch's Guide to Charisma_, Alison went with _Odd Curses and Hexes to Use on Friends_). When the family passed Eyelop's Owl Emporium on the way back to the Leaky Cauldron, Regan stopped and tugged on her father's sleeve.

"May we look?" she asked sweetly. "Mum said we could stop on the way back to the Leaky Cauldron." Ellen sighed.

"I never said that, Regan. We can look for a second, but that's it. And no buying anything." Regan squealed and hugged her mum, causing Ali to roll her eyes. Stupid goody-two shoes.

The girls immediately trotted over to where the lovely great grey owl was still perched. He turned a cold calculating gaze towards them, hooting disdainfully. Regan bit her lip.

"I don't think he likes us very much," she said disappointedly. Ali rolled her eyes again.

"I like him. He acts like a true Slytherin," she said, raising an eyebrow at the owl, who hooted indignantly. "See? He likes me, just not you."

"That's not true!" Regan exclaimed. She looked like she was about to throw a tantrum, and Ellen, who had been examining a fat Persian cat that was purring loudly, quickly came over.

"What's wrong, Rags honey?" Regan's eyes filled with fake looking tears and Ali sighed. Regan always fake-cried whenever Ali said something nasty to her, and their parents immediately took her side of course.

"Ali was being mean to me!" she whined. "She said the owl didn't like me!" Ellen quickly hugged her daughter and looked around nervously. Regan's fake wails were attracting attention from people in the shop. She quickly searched for something to say that would calm her daughter.

"Of course the owl likes you, sweat pea. In fact, the owl likes you so much, we'll buy it for you and Ali to share!" Ali groaned. She wanted an owl, sure, but definitely didn't want to share it with her stupid Gryffindor sister. She watched as her mom scurried off to find the shop owner and purchase the owl before turning to her sister.

"Well played Regan," she said with a sneer. Her sister's eyes immediately cleared of all tears, a self-satisfied smirk fixed on her face.

"Thanks, big sis," she said sarcastically. "Now what should we name our new pet?" Ali groaned. Here came another fight.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.**

The rest of the summer passed far too slowly for Ali. She couldn't wait to get away from Regan and her parents and see her Slytherin friends again. When she wasn't at dance or riding the horse her family leased, Spirit, she was holed up in her room, writing long letters to Daphne, Pansy, and Tracey while stroking Orion (the name her and Regan had finally settled on for their new owl). When September 1st finally came, Ali popped out of bed in a bubble of excitement, getting ready in record speed for once."

"'Morning Mum, Dad, Regan," she greeted cheerfully when she trotted down the stairs, smoothing the deep purple jumper she had thrown on. Regan looked up, slightly surprised.

"Who are you and what have you done with my sister?" she asked jokingly. "You never say good morning to me." Ali, feeling magnanimous, graced her sister with a smile.

"It's finally time to get back to Hogwarts. I get to see Pansy, Daphne, and Tracey again," she explained. Her mother and father exchanged glances.

"I know Ali dear, but I want you to be careful around them. Regan tells me they aren't very nice people." Ali glared at her sister, her previous warm feelings forgotten.

"Regan has to tell you that, she's a _Gryffindor_," she said contemptuously, spitting the last word out as if it were a curse. She ate breakfast in silence and continued to ignore her parents and Regan on the drive to King's Cross Station. The family passed through the barrier dividing platforms Nine and Ten ("I swear mum, the wall's not going to hurt you. You just go straight through it, easy as pie"), and were finally at Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Ali came out of her sullen state when she spotted Tracey standing with her family.

"Tracey!" she exclaimed, running up to hug her friend. She had always been the only one of their friends to call Ali by her preferred nickname. The Davies, unlike the Greengrasses and Parkinsons, were more open in their views of muggleborns, and had always been very accepting of Ali.

"Hi Ali! Wow, you got taller than me," Tracey commented, noticing the several inch height difference. Ali grinned.

"Daphne's probably still ahead though. She's taller than Marcus Flint!"

She looked around, searching the platform for her other two friends. She immediately spotted Draco Malfoy standing next with his mother and father, who both shared his pale hair and haughty expression. Several redheads indicated that the Weasley clan was there. Finally, her eyes fell on Daphne and Pansy, who were both chatting with their families. Ali sighed, feeling a twinge of regret that she couldn't go over and say hello. It was hard having your best friends' families hate you.

"Want to go and find a compartment?" asked Tracey with a sympathetic smile. "I'm sure they'll find us."

"Sure, let's go." The two girls dragged their luggage down the train, finding an empty compartment towards the end. They headed back towards the platform to say goodbye to their families.

"Goodbye mum, 'bye dad," Alison said quickly, giving them both quick hugs. Now that she was almost fifteen, drawn out and tearful goodbyes seemed babyish. Regan clearly didn't share the same sentiments, as she spent a good three minutes saying sorrowful farewells.

"I'm gonna go and find Ginny and Neville," she said when she was finished, causing Ali to sneer.

"Have fun with Longbottom and the She-Weasel," she said contemptuously before joining Tracey in their compartment. Daphne and Tracey soon joined them, sitting down just when the station clock read 11:00 and the train began to crawl forward.

"Hey Ali, did you get your dress robes?" asked Daphne as soon as she sat down. She was definitely the most fashion-forward one of the group.

"Yeah, mum wouldn't let me get the ones I wanted though," Ali replied, opening her trunk and holding up her dress robes. Daphne let out an appreciative "ooooh".

"What a pretty design," she commented. "What did the ones you wanted look like?"

"Lipstick red, low cut," Ali described. "I'm okay with these though. They cost just as much as the other ones," she added. Daphne and Pansy were the type of girls who always assumed that higher price equaled better quality.

"So Ali, are you going to enter?" Pansy asked eagerly. Ali tried to hide her confusion.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked, hoping Pansy would explain what she was on about.

"_Are you going to enter?_" she repeated, and Ali sighed exasperatedly. There was no hiding here confusion, and Pansy loved it when she knew something that Ali didn't, which happened quite frequently considering Pansy was a pureblood.

"Enter what?" she asked, her voice a little bit harsher than she intended. Pansy fake-gasped and licked her lips, making Alison feel like a mouse about to be pounced on.

"You mean you don't know?" gasped Pansy faux-incredulously. "Draco's father has known for ages, and I assumed you did too. Of course, you are muggleborn so it's only natural that you wouldn't have the same knowledge of important wizarding events.

"Give it a rest, Pansy," Tracey snapped, hating it when Pansy and Daphne pulled the muggleborn card. "Explain to her, and be nice about it."

"The Triwizard Tournament is coming to Hogwarts this year!" Pansy exclaimed. Ali cocked her head.

"Triwizard what?"

"The Triwizard Tournament. It hasn't taken place for several hundred years thanks to the death toll. Three rival schools, Hogwarts, Beaxbatons, and Durmstrang each select a champion to compete in three dangerous tasks," Daphne recited.

"Careful Daph," chided Pansy. "You're starting to sound like that know-it-all mudblood Granger." Ali shifted uncomfortably. The world "mudblood" made her uneasy, since she technically was one herself.

"Beaxbatons and Durmstrang, huh?" she said, hastily changing the subject. "It'll be interesting meeting witches and wizards from other countries." She had read all about Beaxbatons and Durmstrang in the copy of _History of Magical Education in Europe _she had gotten as a Christmas present in second year.

"I'm more interested in the competition itself." A bored drawl caused Ali to look towards the compartment door and sway Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle standing there.

"Drakie-poo!" Pansy exclaimed, leaping up to peck Draco on the cheek. Ali and Tracey exchanged amused glances at Draco's disgusted expression.

"Are any of you planning on entering?" he asked, pulling Pansy off of him. She sat down dejectedly.

"Competitions aren't really my thing," Tracey answered. "You know how I am about Quidditch—I just can't stay awake!"

"Even during the World Cup? I mean, how could you not be awake for that? Krum was spectacular," Daphne said, her eyes taking on a slightly glazed look. Viktor Krum had been her celebrity crush for years.

"Can we not talk about that?" Ali asked. Pansy shot her a simpering sympathetic look.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Alison dear. You didn't get to go to the cup, did you? I suppose it's probably for the better though. Your parents wouldn't understand Quidditch, being muggles in all." Ali took a couple of calming breaths. She was used to Pansy's jibes about her being muggleborn, but they still made her blood boil sometimes.

"Well, I'm off to annoy Potter and Company," Draco announced. "Anyone wish to join me?"

"I will. Bugging Potty and the Weasel is always fun," Ali said, standing quickly. Truthfully, she just needed a break from Pansy.

They headed down a corridor, stopping at a middle compartment. Draco slid open the door, and Ali caught a snippet of what Weasley was saying:

"We were in the Top Box—" Oh great, they were discussing the World Cup as well.

"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley." Draco said, standing in the doorway. Ali squeezed in next to him.

Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley glared up at her. Granger was as buck-toothed and bushy-haired as ever and Weasley was still tall, pale, and freckled. Potter looked slightly different though. His hair was a bit longer, and he was taller and maybe even a little more muscular. Ali shook herself out of her thoughts hastily. She definitely shouldn't be thinking of Harry Potter like that…

"Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy, Blair," he responded coldly, emerald eyes blazing. Malfoy didn't retort, as he had spotted a moldy looking lace cuff dangling from Weasley's trunk.

"Weasley…what is _that_?" he asked, pointing.

"Probably his favorite underwear," Ali responded, garnering a smoldering glare from Ron. "He definitely seems the type," she added, looking him over with a sneer. The redheaded boy attempted to stuff the lacy cuff out of sight, but Draco was too quick for him; he seized the sleeve and pulled, revealing what resembled an exceptionally ugly dress.

"Look at this!" exclaimed Malfoy in ecstasy. "Weasley, you weren't thinking of _wearing _these, were you? I mean—they were very fashionable in about 1890…"

"Where on earth did you get them?" asked Ali. "My sister would love some, especially the color."

"Eat dung, Blair!" Ron shouted, turning the same color as the robes. Ali and Draco howled in laughter.

"So…going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know…you'd be able to afford some decent robes involved if you won…"

"What are you talking about?" snapped Weasley. Ali felt reassured that she wasn't the only one who hadn't known about the tournament. And Weasley was a pureblood too! A blood traitor, but still a pureblood.

"_Are you going to enter_?" Draco repeated. "I suppose_ you _will Potter? You never miss a chance to show off!"

"Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy," Granger snapped, glaring over her copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4_.

"Don't tell me you don't _know_?" Ali asked incredulously, despite the fact that she had only just found out about the Tournament as well. It was always best to act knowledgeable in these sorts of situations.

"You don't know even though you have a father and brother at the ministry? We've both known about it for ages," she lied. "Since Draco's father works at the ministry so we were informed early on. I suppose your father is too junior to be told about important wizarding events."

"Oh come off it Blair," Potter snapped, picking up on her bluff. "I don't know what your talking about, but you certainly didn't know about until today. Everyone knows that the Malfoy family won't talk to you because you're a muggleborn."

His comment hit a raw nerve. Flushing angrily, Ali lunged forward with the intent of giving Potter some nasty bruises. He dodged her, and she toppled forward onto the seat, barely catching her balance at the last second. When she looked up, she saw his eyes boring into hers, blazing with fury.

"Come on Alison darling," Draco said, causing her to look away quickly. "We have better things to do than talk to these mudbloods and blood traitors." He took her arm and led her away, and she sent one last glare over her shoulder before stalking to their compartment.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared after their retreating backs, still angry.

"Stupid gits," muttered Ron, grabbing a cauldron cake and squashing it to pulp. "Making it look like they know everything and we don't."

"Malfoy is just Malfoy," Harry said, patting his friend on the arm comfortingly. "And Blair is just a scared little girl who pretends to be a perfect little pureblood so her only friends won't abandon her."

To them, Alison was another hated Slytherin, one of Malfoy and Parkinson's cronies. Little did the Golden Trio know that was soon to change…

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.**

By the time the Hogwarts Express had reached Hogsmeade Station, buckets of rain were pouring from the sky. The students ran in a tight group towards carriages, some holding copies of the Daily Prophet above their heads in a desperate attempt to stay dry. Daphne had some how managed to fit an umbrella in her trunk (thanks to an undetectable expansion charm placed on it by her mum), so the four Slytherin girls crowded under it before rushing into the nearest carriage.

"I feel bad for those poor first years. Imagine crossing the lake in this weather," Tracey commented and the other three nodded. The carriages lurched forward, tumbling in a continuous line through the rain.

"Oh shit, my hair is officially ruined for the night," said Daphne, attempting to finger-comb her water logged locks. "I probably look like Granger."

The carriages had soon reached the castle, and the girls stumbled out and into the gale, rushing up the slippery stone steps and through the doors leading to the cavernous entrance hall. Ali sighed with relief. She looked around the hall, immediately spotting Potter, Weasley, and Granger shivering pitifully.

"Blimey," Weasley was saying. "If that keeps up the lake's going to overflow. I'm soak—ARRGH!" Ali burst into malicious laughter when a red water balloon burst on his head, making him look like a wet weasel. She looked up, only to have a blue balloon splat in her face, drenching her with freezing water. Potter pointed and laughed, causing her to flush angrily.

"PEEVES!" Professor McGonagall ran into the hall. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!" She skidded on the wet floor and nearly choked Granger in a desperate attempt to catch herself. Ali looked up and saw Hogwarts' worst trouble maker hovering above them, continuing to throw water balloons at the screaming students.

"Peeves, get down her NOW!" barked Professor McGonagall.

"Not doing nothing!" the poltergeist cackled. "Already wet aren't they? Little squirts. Wheeeeee!" He tossed the rest of the water balloons in the air, blew a noisy raspberry at Professor McGonagall, whose mouth had become a very thin line, and zoomed out of the hall.

"Well, move along then!" McGonagall snapped. "Into the Great Hall." Ali muttered several nasty curses under her breath, pushing her sopping hair out of her eyes.

The Great Hall was splendid as always, and Ali, Tracey, Daphne, and Pansy quickly claimed a seat at the Slytherin table along with Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Millicent, and Blaise Zabini; the other Slytherin fourth years. Professor McGonagall soon marched into the hall leading a line of wet, terrified first years. She quickly set up the stool and the Sorting Hat.

"I'm so hungry I could eat a horse," Ali said with a groan, clutching her rumbling stomach.

"You certainly eat _like _a horse," Daphne commented slightly nastily. Ali was somewhat famous for her ability to consume vast amounts of food. The Sorting Hat soon began its song, which Ali barely listened to. It was challenging listening to a singing hat when you were cold, wet, and starving. Professor McGonagall read from the list of first years, beginning the Sorting. Ali applauded politely when Malcolm Baddock became the first Slytherin and stumbled over to their table. The Sorting was soon over, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet.

"I have only two words to say to you all: Tuck in." He sat again, and the dishes immediately filled with delicious foods.

"Amen," muttered Ali, immediately filling her plate with mashed potatoes and roast chicken. Daphne smiled in amusement.

"Actually agreeing with old Dumblebore?" she asked. "Careful, people will think you're going soft." She took a ridiculously small bite of pork.

"Oh come on Daph, live a little and eat!" Ali exclaimed through a mouthful of creamy potatoes. Daphne shot her a disgusted look and she swallowed quickly. "You're so thin anyway it doesn't really matter," Ali pointed out.

"I have to maintain my figure. The Ice Queen can't be getting fat, now can she?" the black-haired girl responded primly. "We can't all be blessed with your metabolism, Alison."

"Who says it's a blessing? At least you don't look like a stick figure," Ali pointed out.

"You look better this year," Tracey complimented, always the positive one. Pansy smirked snidely.

"Are you finally out of training bras, Alison?" she asked. Ali glared.

"As a matter of fact, yes," she responded with a self-satisfied smirk. Blaise Zabini groaned exasperatedly.

"Can we not talk about girl things when us guys are sitting right here? It's ridiculously awkward," he whined, with Draco nodding in agreement. Daphne smiled mischievously.

"Oh come on, Blaise, you know you're interested. Do you want to here about my first period? It was exceptionally embarrassing…" she began. Blaise immediately shoved his fingers in his ears.

"I'm not listening!" he sang, while the four girls giggled. Dinner was soon finished and the plates soon held scrumptious desserts, and Ali wolfed down a large helping of chocolate gateau while Daphne sniffed something about too many calories. When the meal was finished, the plates cleared, and Dumbledore stood.

"So!" he began. "Now that were are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention while I give out a few notices.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

"As ever, I would like to remind you that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year."

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

Draco's mouth dropped open in horror, and several students made outraged noises. Ali sighed disappointedly. She enjoyed Quidditch matches as much as the next Slytherin, even though stupid Potter usually beat them.

"This is due to an even that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy—but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—"

He was interrupted when the doors of the Great hall banged open, revealing a man shrouded in a long black cloak. Ali stared at the man, taking in the ridiculously scarred face, the mane of hair, the abnormally large electric blue eye whizzing around in its socket.

"Who's that?" she whispered to Tracey, who was most likely to answer politely.

"That's Mad-Eye Moody," she answered. Ali was still confused and Pansy leapt in, never one to rub in the fact that her friend was still somewhat ignorant about the wizarding world.

"You don't know who Mad-Eye Moody is?" she asked, seemingly shocked. "He's probably one of the most famous aurors out there. Father says his mind is gone. Completely off his rocker."

Mad-Eye Moody sat down at the staff table, immediately seizing a plate of sausages. His strange eye continued to examine the Great Hall before rolling back into his head, exposing the blood-shot white. Dumbledore prepared to continue his speech.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Professor Moody!" He and the oaf Hagrid clapped loudly. Everyone else remained silent, and the applause ended awkwardly.

"As I was saying," continued Dumbledore. "We are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts."

"You're JOKING!" said one of the Weasley twins a little too loudly. Ali rolled her eyes. Ignorant weasels.

"No, I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore responded with one of his annoyingly kind-hearted chuckles. "Although now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about at troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar…"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly, and Ali couldn't help but agree with her. She honestly didn't understand why Dumbledore was considered so amazingly brilliant half the time. Ali half-listened to the rest of the speech, tuning out slightly since she already knew about the tournament.

"The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their shortlisted contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money." Ali looked up in interest at that. A thousand Galleons prize money would have easily bought top-box seats for her entire family at the Quidditch World Cup.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, "the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have a greed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age—that is to say, seventeen years or older—will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration."

Draco made an outraged noise at this. He had been determined to beat Potter at something, and eternal glory certainly did the trick. The girls just sighed though. None of them had really considered entering in the first place.

"Delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Ali rose quickly, intending to retrieve Orion from Regan before bed so she could send a letter to their parents asking for a necklace she realized she had forgotten. She spotted her little sister talking to Neville. They were standing next to Potter and his clan. She crossed quickly.

"I need the owl," she said abruptly, intending to get away from the Gryffindors as quickly as possible. Regan shot her an exasperated look.

"We've been through this, Ali. You get to use Orion on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. I get Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. Today is my day."

"It's important Regan! I left my favorite silver locket at home, and I need to ask mum and dad for it," snapped Ali. "Besides, you get an extra day with Orion. Mum and dad are always favoring you."

"That's not true!" Regan exclaimed angrily. Longbottom laid a comforting arm on her shoulder.

"Don't listen to her, Regan. She's just a silly Slytherin," he soothed. Ali raised an eyebrow.

"Oooooh, is Longbottom the boy you like?" she asked ecstatically, watching as Regan flushed when Neville's arm made contact with her. "This is too good to be true! HEY PANSY, DAPHNE, TRACEY! GUESS WHAT? REGAN FANCIES LONGBOTTOM!" she hollered in glee, feeling as if Christmas had come early. Regan flushed a brilliant shade of maroon.

"Shut up Ali, that's private!" she said through clenched teeth. Ali opened her mouth to make a taunting remark, but was stopped when Potter crossed over angrily.

"Leave them alone, Blair," he threatened, his eyes blazing. Ali couldn't help but take a step back; his emerald eyes were so intense.

"Sorry Potty, but she's my sister. I have automatic teasing rights," she retorted, recovering quickly.

"You still shouldn't treat her like that," Potter said. "C'mon Neville, let's head back to the common room." Regan glared at her sister once more and followed them out of the entrance hall. Ali sighed. Stupid Potter. Now she wouldn't get her locket for at least a week. She turned and made her way back to the Slytherin common room, thinking murderous thoughts about all the Gryffindors. It was certainly shaping up to be an interesting year.


	3. The Line Between Love and Hate

**Chapter 3: The Line between Love and Hate**

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews guys! I really appreciate your feedback. Just a little warning in advance that this chapter is going to include some slightly AU material. It will be mostly sticking with canon, but there will be some differences so I can properly develop Ali and Harry's relationship. Please, please, please review this chapter. I truly appreciate your honest opinions, so feel free to offer constructive criticism as long as it's polite. For the purpose of this chapter, Slytherin and Gryffindor have Defense against the Dark Arts together.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Harry and Company, only Ali.**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.**

The storm had faded into dreary, grey sky by morning, every wisp of cloud threatening a gloomy rain. Ali headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast with her Slytherin friends, reviewing her class schedule with a slight frown.

"Arithmancy with the Ravenclaws first," she commented to Tracey. "That's not too bad, I guess. I hate listening to Padma Patil giggle about boys though. Honestly, doesn't she have anything better to talk about?"

"Eurgh, Care of Magical Creatures with the Gryffindors _again_," said Pansy with an expression that could curdle fresh milk. "Wonder what awful monsters that oaf will be forcing on us this time…"

"I don't understand why we can't study nice creatures for once, like unicorns," Daphne said with a wistful sigh. Ali nodded in agreement.

"We never get to study anything. Either it's violent hippogriffs that try to murder Draco or flobberworms that don't do anything at all," she said.

The group ate breakfast quickly, chatting absentmindedly before heading to their first classes. Ali sighed when she saw Padma Patil running up to her, her dark hair in a long plait held together with an ornate gold butterfly. Ali usually tried to be civil to Padma, as well as the other Ravenclaws, but occasionally the giggling got to be too much and she snapped something nasty. Arithmancy passed quickly, and Ali quickly met up with the Slytherins to head to Care of Magical Creatures.

"God, the last thing I need right now is being forced to look after a bunch of disgusting monsters with all those mudbloods and blood traitors," Pansy groaned as they trekked down the sloping lawn towards Hagrid's hut. Ali looked down, feeling slightly uncomfortable as she always did when Pansy said "mudblood". As the approached the small hut, a strong smell of rotting fish wafted her way. She wrinkled her nose disdainfully.

The rotting fish smell was clearly coming from a bunch of crates that Hagrid was presenting proudly, announcing that they contained "Blast-Ended Screwts." Ali had no idea what a "Blast-Ended Screwt" was, but she certainly didn't want anything to do with them.

"On'y jus' hatched," Hagrid was saying, looking extremely pleased with himself. "So yeh'll be able ter raise 'em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project of it."

"And why would we _want _to raise them," Draco asked with a sneer, announcing their presence. The Gryffindors turned and glared. "I mean, what do they _do_?" continued Draco. "What is the _point _of them?"

"Come now, Draco, their purpose if obvious," answered Ali with a nasty chuckle. "You're _supposed _to use their insides in a perfume. I mean, who wouldn't want to smell like rotting fish?" The Slytherins sniggered appreciatively, and Hagrid's normally kind expression hardened.

"Careful, Blair, or I'll hav' ter give ya detention," the large professor retorted. "Now, yeh'll jus' be feedin' 'em today. Yeh'll wan' ter try 'em on a few diff'rent things—I've never had 'em before, not sure what they'll go fer—I got ant eggs an' frog livers an' a bit o' grass snake—just try 'em out with a bit of each."

Nothing but fear of serving detention with Filch (who had once made her scrub all the toilets in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom with a toothbrush) motivated Alison to attempt to feed the screwts squishy handfuls of frog liver. She seriously doubted that the screwts were likely to eat any of the foods Hagrid had provided; the one she was feeding seemed far more interested in attempting to swallow her fingers with a strange sort of sucker on it's belly.

"Remind me why I wanted to take this class again?" muttered Daphne, withdrawing her hand quickly when the end of her screwt exploded. The same thing happened to Dean Thomas soon after, giving him a nasty second-degree burn.

"That can happen when the blast off," Hagrid said with a happy nod when the boy showed him his damaged hand. By the end of the class, everyone, including Potter, Weasley and Granger, who normally adored Hagrid, was frustrated, smelly, and exasperated.

"I desperately need a shower," Ali commented disgustedly, examining a wet spot of squished frog liver on her jumper. Pansy sniggered meanly.

"It's a good look, Alison, you should keep it," she said. Alison glared at her.

"You have a chunk of hair missing," she pointed out, feeling a sick sort of satisfaction when Pansy reached up and felt a small bald patch where her hair had been singed by her screwt. She shrieked and ran up to the castle, leaving Ali feeling extremely cheerful. She washed up quickly before heading down to lunch with Tracey and Daphne.

"I heard that Cedric Diggory is entering the Triwizard Tournament," Tracey said. "Think he has a chance?"

"Well, he did beat Potter at quidditch," Daphne commented. "That has to count for something. And he is good looking…" Ali rolled her eyes.

"He's a Hufflepuff, Daph. Honestly, I doubt any of those dummies could have even the _slightest _chance of becoming Hogwarts Champion."

The day dragged on in a bleary monotony that contrasted greatly to the excitement of the start of term feast. By dinnertime, Ali already had a load of homework that she was thoroughly unexcited about attempting to complete. The professors were already stressing the importance of their impending OWLs, despite the fact that it wasn't even their fifth year. Alison headed towards the entrance hall wearily, looking forward to a warm meal and a good sleep. She looked up with a spark of interest when Draco brushed past her, flapping a newspaper excitedly.

"Weasley, Hey Weasley!" He was headed towards Potter, Weasley, and Granger, who turned, glaring. Ali spotted Regan standing near them. Her sister met her eyes with an unforgiving expression, and Ali couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret at the cold look in Regan's eyes.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Malfoy extremely loudly, attracting attention from other students milling around in the entrance hall. "Listen to this!" he exclaimed, before reading from the copy of _The Daily Prophet._

**FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC**

It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles

are not yet at an end, _writes Rita Skeeter, Special_

_Correspondent. _Recently under fire for its poor

crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and

still unable to account for the disappearance of one

of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh

embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold

Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.

Draco looked up.

"Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though it's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" he crowed. He continued to read the article, and Ali laughed appreciatively at Weasley's expression. When he was finished, Draco held the paper up for display.

"And there's a picture, Weasley! A picture of your parents outside their house—if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

"Oooooh, I bet Regan could help her!" Ali exclaimed with nasty enthusiasm. "She's been looking into weight loss all summer, haven't you dear?" Regan flushed a brilliant magenta, tears of anger clouding her eyes.

"That was private and you knew it, Alison," she said, a mixture of embarrassment and fury evident in her voice. Alison gasped in fake shock.

"It was? I'm so, so sorry Regan sweetie. I only want to help, you know," she simpered. Potter shot her a glare that could shatter glass.

"Get stuffed Blair, " he said. "C'mon, guys…"

"Oh yeah, you were staying with Weasley this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Draco. "So tell me, is his mother really as porky as Miss-Chubby-Mudblood there or is it just the picture?" he asked, gesturing to Regan. Alison expected her sister to cry, but amazingly enough, she didn't. She stepped up to Draco, her eyes blazing.

"You know what Malfoy?" she spat. "Nobody gives a damn what you guys think. You think you're so high and mighty making fun of my weight, or Ron's mother. You think that people admire you because you wear your brains in your underwear and are able to come up with a stupid insult. But the jokes on you, 'cause everybody knows that you're just jealous that Ron and I actually have mothers that care about us."

"Don't pretend you know anything about my family, Blair," Malfoy retorted, his pale face slightly pink. Regan didn't back down, and Ali felt a small rush of pride that her sister was standing up for herself.

"Keep your stupid mouth shut then, ferret face," Regan said, before turning to leave.

Alison knew what was going to happen a second before it did. She saw Malfoy's hand jerk toward his wand, saw the expression in his eyes. She suddenly felt a strong protective urge, and knew that it didn't matter if she was in Slytherin and Regan was in Gryffindor. She had to protect her sister, _damnit_!

Harry Potter beat her to it. Just as she was about to throw herself in front of Malfoy's wand, Potter did, using his book bag as a shield. Malfoy's curse hit it, singing a hole through that revealed a portion of Potter's copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Four_. Several people shrieked, Ali stood there in shock. Malfoy tried to curse her sister, to _hurt _her sister. Potter saved Regan. For the first time in her life she felt a rush of gratitude for Harry Potter.

"OH NO YOU DON'T LADDIE!" A gruff voice resonated through the entrance hall, followed by a loud BANG!

Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase, wand pointed at a pure white ferret shivering on the stone-flagged floor where Malfoy had been standing a second before. A terrified silence fell over the entrance hall.

"Did he get either of you?" Mood growled, looking at Regan and Harry. Regan spoke up, her voice wavering slightly.

"N-no. Harry s-saved me," she said, trembling. Ali rushed over to her sister, ignoring her Slytherin side.

"Are you okay, Regan?" she asked with genuine concern, attempting to hug her sister. Regan shoved her hard, sending her flying backwards.

"Get off me!" she said angrily. "You know you would have done the same." Ali felt a rush of hurt. Was that all her sister thought of her? That she would attack her violently with the slightest provocation?

"LEAVE IT!" Moody bellowed at Crabbe, who had been attempting to pick up the ferret. He pointed his wand and the terrified creature flew ten feet in the air, squealing.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned. Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…"

Ali couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude at Moody's words as he bounced Malfow up and down. He deserved it. Making fun of Regan was one thing, but trying to hurt her was another.

"Professor Moody!" McGonagall had rushed into the hall. "What—what are you doing?" she gasped, eyes following the ferret's progress through the air.

"Teaching," said Moody.

"Teach—Moody, _is that a student_?" shrieked Professor McGonagall.

"Yep," said Moody.

"No!" cried Professor McGonagall, pulling out her wand, and a second later Draco Malfoy was sprawled on the floor, his normally sleek blond hair mussed over his pink face.

"Moody," McGonagall began weakly, "We _never _use Transfiguration as a punishment! Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"

"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody unconcernedly, "But I though a good sharp, sharp shock—"

"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"

"I'll do that, then," replied Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike. Ali, suddenly remembering her duty as a Slytherin, rushed to his side. No matter how much she disagreed with him, she couldn't have him turn against her. Without her Slytherin friends she would have no one.

"Draco, are you alright?" she asked, faking concern. He brushed her off, muttering something malevolent in which the words "my father" were distinguishable. Ali felt a fresh surge of annoyance. She was trying to be supportive, despite the fact that he had nearly singed a hole through her sister.

"Oh yeah?" growled Moody, limping forward. "Well, I know your father of old, boy…you tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son…now your Head of House'll be Snape, will it? Another old friend. I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape…Come on, you…"

He grabbed Malfoy's upper arm and marched him towards the dungeons. Ali waited until they were out of sight before turning to Potter, Weasley, Granger, and Regan. She supposed she ought to thank Potter for saving her sister, and apologize to Regan.

"Potter…" she began, but he only glared at her, emerald eyes blazing.

"Leave it, Blair," he spat. "Come on, Ron, Hermione, Regan. We have better things to do then talk to the likes of her." Ali stood in hurt bewilderment before calling after them.

"Wait! I wanted to…" But Harry Potter had already disappeared, along with her sister, leaving Ali standing dejectedly in the entrance hall, gazing after them wistfully.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.**

The next two days were…interesting for Ali, to say the least. Draco had been sulking, still smarting from the humiliation of being turned into a ferret in front of his mortal enemies. His fellow Slytherin's attempts to comfort him usually ended nastily, as he considered the subject definitely _not _open for discussion. Regan was still ignoring Ali. Normally, Ali would have dismissed this with a cruel laugh, joking with Tracey, Daphne, and Pansy about how silly her stupid little sister was being. This time though, she couldn't help but feel slightly hurt. She had tried to approach Regan in the halls, but her sister only turned and stormed off in the other direction.

Ali had made up her mind that she would attempt to talk to Potter after Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Gryffindors on Thursday. _Talk to Potter_. The very thought of doing so made her cringe, but still, she owed him a thank you for saving Regan. When Thursday came, she claimed the seat behind Potter, hoping to ambush him before he could leave, taking out her textbook.

"You can put those away." Moody had stumped into the classroom, his wooden leg clunking loudly with every step. "Those books. You won't be needing them." Ali quickly put her copy of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _back in her book bag.

"Right then. I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures—you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"

The class murmured in general assent.

"But you're behind—very behind—on dealing with curses," said Moody. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark—"

"What, aren't you staying?" Weasley blurted out. Ali rolled her eyes, expecting Moody to growl something harsh in return. Instead, he smiled. The smile was ridiculously twisted, but it was reassuring to know that he did possess some sense of human kindness.

"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" asked Moody. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago…Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore…One year, and then back to my quiet retirement."

He laughed harshly before clapping his knurled hands.

"So—straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to teach you what evil dark curses look like until you're in sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."

Lavender Brown blushed a brilliant shade of magenta. She had been showing Parvati Patil her completed horoscope from Divination under her desk. Ali sniggered a little bit too loudly, because a second later, Moody's attention was focused on her.

"Something funny, Miss Blair?" he growled. Ali flushed with embarrassment. She hated being put on the spot.

"No Sir," she muttered.

"Good. In that case, why don't you name one of the three curses most heavily punished by Wizarding law?"

"Imperius Curse," named Ali quickly, feeling deeply grateful that she had heard Pansy and Daphne discussing unforgivable curses.

"Very good," Moody growled. He crossed to his desk, removing a large jar from a drawer. Three spiders were scuttling around inside. Moody pulled out one, placed it in the palm of his hand, and muttered, "_Imperio_".

The spider leapt from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel. Moody's wand jerked, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance. Ali was laughing. Everyone was laughing—except for Moody.

"Think it's funny, do you?" he growled. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"

The laughter died instantly.

"Total control," said Moody as the spider executed a series of somersaults. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats…" Weasley gave an involuntary shudder.

"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse. Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.

"The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Moody barked, and Ali jerked back, nearly wetting herself.

"Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?" Granger's and shot up, and, to Ali's immense surprise, Longbottom's. Longbottom never volunteered information, and when he did it usually led to his humiliation.

"Yes?" Moody said, his magical eye zooming in on Neville, who answered in a small, trembling voice.

"There's one—the Cruciatus Curse." Ali raised her eyebrows, slightly impressed. Perhaps Longbottom did know a thing or two after all.

"Longbottom, is it?" asked Moody, receiving a tiny nod in confirmation. He reached into the jar, pulling out another spider. This one seemed too terrified to move. "The Cruciatus Curse. Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea. _Engorio!_"

The spider swelled, causing Ali to inadvertently shudder. Weasley threw his chair back, nearly crashing into her table.

"Careful Weasel!" she hissed quietly enough that Moody didn't hear her voice. Potter turned and glared at her again, and Ali sighed internally. She wasn't looking forward to cornering him after the lesson. Moody raised his wand, a grim look in his one beady eye.

"_Crucio!_" The spiders legs bent into its body and it began twitching horribly. It made no sound, but had it had a voice, Ali was sure it would be screaming. The spider began to shudder, jerking back violently.

"Stop it!" shrieked Granger. Ali initially thought she was talking about the spider, but her gaze was on Longbottom, whose eyes were so wide they bulged out of his head, jaw clenched and fingers balled into fists. Moody raised his wand. The spider's legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch. He muttered "_Reducio_" before placing the spider back in the jar.

"Pain," said Moody softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse…That one was very popular too. Right…anyone know any others?" Granger's hand trembled in the air.

"Yes?" asked Moody.

"_Avada Kedavra_," Granger said tremulously.

"Ah," said Moody, a slight smile twisting his face. "Yes, the last and worst. _Avada Kedavra_…the Killing Curse." He reached his hand in the jar once more, and the last spider scuttled frantically about, as if it knew what was coming. Moody raised his wand, and Ali shuddered with a thrill of foreboding.

"_Avada Kedavra,_" he roared. There was a blinding flash of green light, a roaring sound; the sound of imminent death, and the spider kneeled over, clearly lifeless. The class was dead silent.

"Not nice," said Moody calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no countercurse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me." Both of his eyes bore into Harry Potter

Ali stared hard at the back of Potter's head, a mixture of feelings rushing through her. So that was how the Dark Lord tried to kill him, how his parents died. She wondered what he was feeling. Probably very sad, seeing his parent's deaths reenacted before him by Moody, before being put on the spot. She felt an urge to reach over and give him a comforting pat on the arm and…No, no, NO! She could NOT be feeling sympathetic for Harry Potter. Absolutely not.

Ali barely paid attention to the rest of the class, taking absentminded notes about the three curses. Soon the bell rang, Moody dismissed them and Ali rose quickly, chasing after Potter.

"Potter! Hey, POTTER!" she shouted. He turned, giving her a disdainful look.

"What do you want, Blair?" he asked coldly.

"I need to talk to you. Please," she said. He raised an eyebrow. Alison Blair never begged, especially not to him. He turned to Ron and Hermione.

"You two go ahead. I'll see what she wants." Ron and Hermione gave him tentative glances, but he urged them on. "Go ahead, I'll be fine." Sighing, Harry turned to Blair once more.

"What do you want?" he asked bluntly. Alison's expression shifted. Something in her eyes softened, and she bit her lip slightly nervously.

"Er—I wanted to thank you. For, um, saving my sister," she blurted out. "I just wanted to tell you that I know I've been mean to her. I'd never hurt her though. I can't believe Draco tried to."

"Well, you may not have cursed her, but you certainly hurt her feelings," said Harry, not feeling particularly forgiving. "She's really sensitive." Alison gazed at his feet, looking nervous and maybe even remorseful.

"I know. I shouldn't make fun of her about her weight and stuff," she said. "She's not even fat or anything. We used to be really close before—well before she was sorted into Gryffindor."

"What House you're in really shouldn't change your relationship with your sister," said Harry. He felt a twinge of sympathy for Alison. She was expected to behave a certain way towards Gryffindors, being a Slytherin and all.

"I know," Ali said. She knew she was being too friendly, and if Pansy or Draco saw her talking to Harry, she'd have a lot of explaining to do. Something made her want to keep talking to him though. She wanted to be honest. The thought shocked her. Alison lied more than she breathed when it came to her feelings. Why on earth would she suddenly want to have a cozy heart-to-heart with none other than Harry Potter?

"It's hard though, you know? Pansy makes life difficult enough for me as it is, being a muggleborn and all. If I'm nasty to Regan, she let's up a little."

"You should talk to her," said Harry, feeling slightly friendlier towards her, albeit still cautious. "The sooner the better. She's just going to get angrier." Ali sighed.

"I suppose I will. I doubt she'll be willing to see me anytime soon though. Maybe you could talk to her for me?" She gazed up at him, hope evident in her eyes. Harry weighed his options. He wasn't extremely close to Regan, but he still liked her. He didn't want her to get hurt. But Alison truly seemed sorry about what she'd done.

"I guess I could," Harry responded. Alison's face broke out in a smile. Not one of those little smirks that screamed "I'm a perfect little Slytherin Ice Princess" but a real one, full of friendship and joy. Harry couldn't help but notice that she was actually very pretty when she smiled. Her big blue eyes were illuminated, her blonde hair seemed to glow, and her whole face lit up. He felt the tiniest bit of a blush stain his cheeks.

"Thanks," said Alison. A second later though, the smile melted, replaced by her classic bitchy expression. "But don't think this changes how I feel about you, _Potter_," she snapped.

Turning on her heel, she stalked away. Harry sighed exasperatedly. For a second, he actually thought she was being nice. He probably had only imagined it. Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin. His stomach growled loudly, and he headed towards the Great Hall for dinner.

Hermione and Ron were seated at the Gryffindor table, Hermione eating furiously fast so she could leave for the library _again_. Harry sat down wearily.

"What did Blair want?" Ron asked, his mouth full of pork.

"Said she felt bad about teasing Regan and wanted to thank me for helping her," responded Harry, reaching for the potatoes. Hermione took a break from her rapid chewing to give him a calculating look.

"Be careful Harry. I wouldn't trust any of those Slytherin girls if I were you. She probably is just looking for a way to hurt Regan even more. Honestly, she can't even be nice to her own _sister_!"

"I know, I know. She seemed like she had good intentions, so I figured there was no harm in talking to her for a minute…" Harry began, but Ron quickly interrupted him.

"You know mate, you really can't assume the best in people all the time," said Ron. "I mean, Dumbledore trusts Snape, and he's most definitely up to no good." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Honestly Ron, Snape tried to save Harry's life in first year. Just because he isn't very nice doesn't mean he's evil," she said exasperatedly.

"Hey!" exclaimed Ron. "I was supporting your point! Blair is bad news. We've known that from the start."

Harry sighed. He did know. The first time he had seen Alison was at the King's Cross Station she had seemed just a normal, happy girl, hugging her mum goodbye. As soon as she was sorted into Slytherin though, she had gone out of her way to make their lives miserable, along with the rest of her friends. She alone had reduced Hermione to tears several times during their first year.

"I said I'd talk to Regan for her," he said. "She wants to apologize for how she's been acting, so I thought I could soften Regan up a bit first."

"Who wants you to soften up Regan?" Harry looked over his shoulder to see the two Weasley twins standing behind him.

"Alison. Alison Blair," answered Harry. The twins raised their eyebrows simultaneously.

"Careful there mate, she's a real piece of work," said Fred.

"Not bad on the eyes, for a puny fourth year of course. But still, a _Slytherin_!" agreed George. Ron rolled his eyes.

"What do you two want?" he asked exasperatedly.

"We need to borrow Pigwidgeon," answered Fred. Ron's features took on their characteristically confused expression.

"What for?" he asked. George rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I dunno, we wanted to play exploding snap with him," he said. Ron looked even more befuddled, causing George to sigh in exasperation. "To send a letter, you git!"

"Oh, that's okay then," said Ron. "He's up in the Owlery. Say, who are you two writing anyways?"

"That, little brother…" began Fred.

"Is none of your business," ended George.

"Although if you continue to ask about it, we _do _have some ton-tongue toffees with us right now. You'll look positively ravishing with a ten foot long tongue, Ronniekins," said Fred. Ron muttered something that made Hermione knock him firmly on the arm. George gasped in faux-shock.

"Fred, look at our little ickle Ronniekins, all grown up and cursing!" he exclaimed.

"This language is far too shocking for our sensitive ears. C'mon George, let's be off to the owlery!" They linked arms and headed out the Great Hall. Ron mumbled something that sounded like "bloody gits".

Harry looked behind him, scanning the hall. Alison was seated at the Slytherin table, saying something to Pansy. Suddenly, she turned and looked straight at him, something unidentifiable blazing in the depths of her eyes. He turned back hastily. Looking down the table, immediately spotting Regan talking to Neville and Ginny. There was an empty seat next to her. Perfect. He rose quickly, ignoring Ron and Hermione's protest, and crossed over to Regan, sitting quickly.

"Hey Neville, hey Ginny, hey Regan," he greeted. Ginny looked slightly flustered, like she always did in his presence, but Neville and Regan looked happy enough to see him.

"I talked to your sister earlier," he said to her, cutting straight to the chase. Regan's expression darkened considerably. "She feels really bad about saying those things to you and wants to apologize."

"So she charmed you into coming over here and softening me up because she's afraid that I'll refuse to talk to her and humiliate her?" asked Regan. "Honestly, Harry, I can't believe she got through to you so easily. I thought you were better than that."

"She seemed really sincere—" Harry began, but Regan cut him off quickly.

"Alison always seems sincere when she wants something. I've seen her use it on our parents all the time. She flashes one of those perfect, heart-melting smiles of hers and they'll immediately do anything she wants. And the only reason she wants to apologize is so she can get on my good side only to further humiliate me when an opportunity arises."

Harry felt disappointed. Of course she wasn't actually being nice to him. Alison was a Slytherin. He knew perfectly well what she was capable of. And now that he thought about, he'd seen her manipulate some of the teachers before. A wide-eyed, innocent expression. Nervously tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. Everything spelled sweet, lovely, naïve. A second later though she would be sniggering nastily, wearing that coveted half smirk.

"I suppose you're right," he said to Regan, feeling defeated. She nodded knowingly.

"Don't let her fool you, Harry. She's always been deceptive. It's what she does best," she said. Harry sighed, determined not to think of it any more. He had so much more important things to worry about other than the petty antics of Alison Blair.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.**

Alison ate in a distracted daze, barely listening to Pansy, Daphne, and Tracey's gossiping. Even Pansy's jibes at her blood heritage didn't bug her as much as the normally would. When she was sure he wasn't looking, she snuck furtive glances at the Gryffindor table, at Potter. He was sitting there, chatting with Ron, Hermione and the Weasley twins. He turned and glanced back, and for a second, he looked at her. Ali couldn't help but suck in a nervous breath when his eyes met hers. The moment was gone in an instant and Potter turned back to little friends. Ali bit her lip, ignoring the feelings surging through her. She definitely should not be staring at messy-haired, foolish, Gryffindor golden boy Harry Potter. With a sigh, she reluctantly listened to Pansy complain about a spot appearing on her nose, determined to not let her thoughts stray to the Gryffindor table.

Dinner was soon over, and Alison rose quickly, intending to talk to her sister. She ran across the Great Hall, immediately spotting Regan's short, brown hair.

"Regan! Regan, I need to talk to you!" she shouted. Pansy, Daphne and Tracey looked at her, confused. Regan turned, and Ali did a classic double take. Her sister looked even angrier than she had before.

"What do you want, Ali?" she spat. Ali, taken aback, took a second to respond.

"I-I wanted to apologize for making fun of you. I took it too far. You aren't fat Regan, and I shouldn't have said so. I know you're really, really angry with me, but can we at least try to work it out? Did Potter talk to you?" she asked.

"Yes!" exclaimed Regan. "I can't believe you tried your tricks with him too, Ali. Did you want the Boy Who Lived fawning over you like all your little Slytherin friends? I can't believe you tried to manipulate him like you do everyone else!"

"It wasn't like that, Regan," said Ali. "I only wanted to thank him for helping you when Draco tried to hex you."

"Oh really? Then why didn't you yell at Malfoy for trying to burn me? Huh?" asked Regan. "I didn't see you going all ballistic on him. Don't think I'm just going to forgive you with open arms, Alison, because I know what you're up too. You're going to pretend you're all friendly with me again so you can further humiliate me later!"

Ali was in shock. This definitely _not _how this was supposed to end. Regan was supposed to forgive her and everything would be alright again. No matter how much she denied it, Ali missed her sister. She was trying to make things right. Why couldn't Regan see that? Even worse, the scene had attracted a small crowd. She was being publicly humiliated. It was probably best to get out of the situation as soon as possible.

"Fine," spat Alison. "If that's what you think, go ahead. See if I care." Turning on her heel, she stalked off, quickly joining Pansy, Daphne, and Tracey.

"What was that about?" Tracey asked concernedly. "Everything alright?" Ali let out a long breath, attempting to regain her composure.

"Regan was just being stupid," she replied. Pansy gave her a hard look.

"You weren't _actually _going to apologize, were you? I mean you never had any qualms about making fun of her before."

"Of course I wasn't," Ali sniffed. "I was setting her up, of course." Tracey gazed at her skeptically, and Ali could tell she didn't believe her.

Of course, she had been sincere. She really did want to make up with Regan. A deep, secret part of her missed her pre-Hogwarts days, when she and Regan had been the best of friends. Regan would come to dance with her, attempting to perform the _plies _and _pas de bourreés. _Afterwards, Ali would teach her the correct way to do the moves, but eventually they would end up making up silly dances together that had nothing to do with traditional ballet. When mum picked them up from dance, they would go to their favorite ice cream parlor, both getting strawberry double scoops.

Sometimes she and Regan used to have sleepovers in her room when their parents went out for the night. Their babysitter, Alexa, usually fell asleep early, leaving them able to stay up as late as the wanted (although they usually never made it past midnight). Ali would sneak downstairs and make them popcorn, and they would curl up in her bed and watch forbidden horror movies, clinging to each other with fear. When their parents came home they found the two girls asleep together, limbs entwined.

"Ali? Earth to Ali?" Daphne's voice shook Ali out of her reminiscent thoughts. She blinked sadly. Those days were long gone, and there was nothing she could do about. Now Regan could barely stand to look at her. Forcing a small smile, she turned to her friend.

"I'm fine. Let's head back to the common room. I still have to finish that potions essay…" The girls walked away, and Ali looked ahead determinedly, refusing to spare a single thought about her little sister.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.**

**Author's Note: Hope you guys liked that. I wanted to provide insight into Ali and Regan's relationship, as Regan will be an important part of this story. I'll be including more from Harry's POV and more Harry/Ali in later chapters. If you have an idea for something you think I should include, feel free to leave a review with your thoughts. Thank you!**


	4. A Confrontation of Morals

**Chapter 3: A Confrontation of Morals**

**Author's Note: Thanks again for the great reviews, you guys. I really, really appreciate the support and help. This chapter will cover a lot of ground, mainly the arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang as well as a fight between Pansy and Ali.**

**Disclaimer: Maybe, one day, the characters of Harry Potter will have a uprising and declare me their supreme leader. But it is not this day, so I'm stuck doing this disclaimer.**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.**

The next few weeks passed extremely quickly for Ali, who didn't have much time to worry about Regan ostracizing her, thanks to the vast mounds of schoolwork being piled upon them. Moody's class alone pretty much drained her for the day, thanks to the ridiculously hard lessons he had planned for them.

One class, to everyone's immense surprise, Professor Moody announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on all of them, to which Granger immediately protested with a squeaky "But it's illegal, Professor!" Moody threatened to dismiss her from the lesson, which immediately silenced her. Ali watched in great amusement as her classmates did ridiculous things, such as hop around the classroom singing the national anthem, imitating a squirrel, and even Longbottom performing a series of astonishing gymnastics that he never could of performed in his normal state. Ali waited patiently until…

"You next, Blair," growled Moody. Ali moved towards the middle of the classroom, waiting in rapt anticipation as Moody raised his wand, pointed it at her, and said _"Imperio!"_

A happy, floating sensation immediately filled brain, causing her to sway stupidly, waiting for Moody's command. It came quickly.

_Dance to "Waltz of the Flowers."_ Well, that certainly wasn't a problem from her. She probably would have showed of her impressive ballet training had he asked her politely, let alone put her under the Imperius Curse. Although when she thought about it later, it did seem somewhat odd that Moody knew specific dances from The Nutcracker.

Ali twirled around the room happily, not fighting the curse in the slightest, and she was soon released. Retreating to the edge of the circle, she examined her freshly painted nails, not feeling much interest in watching the rest of the students fail at throwing off the curse.

"Potter, you next," said Moody. Ali's head immediately snapped up, looking at the Gryffindor Golden boy intently. He stepped into the middle of the classroom, not with fear, or boredom as some had, but with a confidence that seemed to radiate off of him in great waves. Ali met his eyes for a brief second, her breath catching in her throat when she saw the determination that blazed in them. Moody raised his wand.

_"Imperio!"_ Potter immediately crouched, obeying Moody's unknown command. He bounced on the balls of his feet, as if preparing to spring into the air. Ali sighed disappointedly. A second ago, she was sure he might be able to throw off the curse. She was probably just being stupid…

Something changed in Potter's eyes. They were suddenly filled with contemplative bewilderment, as if he was questioning what he was doing. The look hardened, and all at once he both sprang into the air in the direction of the desk but back at the same time, landing rather painfully. For a minute, the classroom sat in stunned silence.

"Now _that's_ more like it!" roared Moody, lowering his wand and lifting the curse. "Look at that, you lot…Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention—watch his eyes, that's where you see it—very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling _you_!"

Soon, they were hobbling out of defense, some exhausted, others just annoyed. Alison trailed behind Potter who was muttering mutinously with Weasley. After four more attempts by Moody, he had thrown off the curse, crashing into the desk many times before he finally accomplished the task. Still, Ali couldn't help but be slightly impressed. _She _had barely even known she was being cursed when he put it on her, let alone think about throwing it off. In a desperate attempt to make peace, she called out to him.

"Hey, Potter! Nice job today," she hollered. Potter turned, giving her a withering look.

"Just leave me alone, Blair," he snapped, mistaking her tone for sarcasm. "It's not like _you _did anything except twirl around the room like an obedient little girl." Ali paused, wincing slightly at the condescending bite of his voice. Daphne, who was walking with her, quickly tugged her sleeve.

"What is _wrong _with you, Alison? You've been trying to talk to Potter for weeks now. Better be careful; if Pansy sees you talking to those blood traitors and Mudbloods, you're toast!"

"Didn't even know you cared," Alison said, slightly touched. Daphne always took Pansy's side when she and Ali had their little disputes, never pausing to make a snide remark about her blood purity. It was nice to know that her friend was actually trying to look out for her.

"Of course I do," sniffed Daphne. "I love Pansy, but she does sometimes take it too far when she makes her jibes at you. Don't give her any more reason to make your life more miserable, Ali. Besides, hanging around Gryffindors is bad for your reputation. Don't want people think your loosing your touch, now do you?"

"I guess not," Ali responded. She examined her friend carefully. Daphne's shoulder length dark hair was held in its usual tight knot at the nape of her neck. Her expression was snooty as always, but Ali couldn't help but feel that if the girl relaxed a little, she really could be a stunning beauty.

"You should let your hair down," she suggested with a smile. Daphne blinked, bewildered. "Wear your hair down," Ali continued. "It would make you look just gorgeous, Daph. Here, let me help." Reluctantly, Daphne turned so that Ali could unweave the tight bun, leaving her think, wavy locks cascading down her shoulders. Daphne turned to face her, and Ali surveyed her critically.

"Perfect," she said. "Wait a second…" Reaching into her bag, she unearthed a small, handheld mirror, handing it to Daphne. "Take a look," she ordered.

Daphne looked her reflection over carefully, and her face broke out into a wide smile. It made her pale green eyes light up, and Ali grinned as well. She was right, her friend was extremely pretty when she loosened up.

"Thank you, Alison," said Daphne genuinely, albeit still slightly formal.

"Please call me Ali. It's just—Well, I've been wanting to tell you for four years that I hate being called Alison, but I was afraid too," Ali blurted out, expecting a sudden rebuke. To her surprise, Daphne nodded.

"Okay then, _Ali_," she said, the new name rolling off her tongue. "Shall we go to dinner?"

The two girls linked arms before heading off, chatting happily and feeling like friends. _Real _friends; not the fake type used to gain social status like they had been before. It had taken four years, but it was finally happening. Perhaps the two girls would never be ridiculously close, but they had established some trust in their relationship, and trust was always the foundation of a true friendship.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.**

Heading into the Entrance Hall after a particularly gruesome Care of Magical Creatures class (Blast-Ended Screwts, it turned out, did NOT enjoy having nervous teenagers chase them around attempting to take notes. By the end most were nursing burnt fingers), the students got a nice surprise. A large notice had been posted at the base of the marble staircase. Daphne, who was a fair bit taller than Ali, Pansy, and Tracey, stood on tiptoe and read it aloud:

**TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT**

The Delegations from Beauxbatons and

Durmstrange will be arriving at 6 o'clock

on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will

end half an hour early. Students will return

their bags and books to their dormitories and

assemble in front of the castle to greet

our guests before the welcoming feast.

"Only a week away!" Ernie Macmillan, a pudgy, pompous Hufflepuff whom Ali regarded with mild dislike, said loudly. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him."

"Why bother? It's not like Hufflepuff actually stands a chance of having a champion," Pansy sneered. Ernie shot her a dirty look before waddling away. Ali felt a twinge of annoyance.

"Honestly, Pansy, you could be nicer. Ernie didn't even do anything," she said loudly, hoping Potter or even maybe Regan would hear her defending the boy. Sure enough, Granger looked over with mild interest, tapping Potter on the shoulder.

"Well, well, well," Pansy began, surveying Ali with an evil glint in her eyes. "Pretty little Alison is defending a chubby Hufflepuff. Since when did you call that scum by his first name, Alison Darling?" she asked, voice ringing with sarcasm.

It took all the courage Alison possessed to not back down then. She had stood quietly for too long. It was time to stand up for herself, and maybe win back her sister's respect.

"I call him Ernie because it's rude to call people by their last names, like they're inferior beings," she said bravely. Pansy's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, I see. You're _protesting, _aren't you, Alison dear? Standing up for all the blood traitors and all the rest of that scum. How touching. What's next? Calling Weasley 'Ron'? Calling Granger 'Hermione'?" she said, gesturing to both.

"As a matter of fact, yes!" said Ali. Grange—er, Hermione, and Ron looked surprised. "I'm sick of playing your stupid little games, Pansy," she spat. "From now on, I'm doing what I think is right, no matter how badly you treat me."

"Well, that's fine with me," Pansy said, shocking most people watching. "In fact, it only makes sense. After all, why not treat your equals as equals? Because that's all you really are, Alison. You're a filthy, dirty, conniving little mudblood!"

Everybody who heard gasped. Ali was in complete shock. She was used to Pansy making subtle jibes at her blood purity; it grew old after a while. She was used to Pansy calling other people mudbloods as well. But never had she ever called Alison such an insulting term so blatantly. And it stung, bad. She suddenly understood the hurt that Granger, or the Creeveys, and all those other unfortunates felt when she and her friends made fun of them. Her eye twitched angrily.

"That's right," said Pansy viciously. "Did you think we all forgot about your blood status? That you are automatically a pureblood because you want to be one? You've always been in denial, Alison. None of us have forgotten that your parents are muggles."

That was it. Abandoning all common sense, Ali lunged at Pansy, disregarding her wand entirely and aiming the most powerful punch she could muster at Pansy's face. Her fist hit, but Pansy immediately retaliated. Soon the girls were clawing at each other like cats, biting tooth and nail.

"Break it up, break it up!" A Ravenclaw prefect Ali didn't recognize had entered the hall. He looked indignant, but didn't seem particularly eager to get in the middle of the fighting girls.

Suddenly, strong arms encircled Ali, pulling her away from Pansy. She felt someone's warm breath hit the back of her neck, sending tingles down her spine. Heart pumping with adrenalin, she tried to pull herself away and give Pansy what was coming to her.

"Hey, shhh. It's okay, I've got you," said the unmistakable voice of Harry Potter. She felt a sudden shock. Harry Potter was speaking to her civilly, kindly even. "Let's get you to Madam Pomfrey."

Ali became suddenly aware that her mouth was filled with a metallic taste that could only mean she was bleeding. She fought a sudden wave of nausea. Blood made her slightly queasy. Touching the place where Pansy's limb had made contact with her jaw, she followed Pott—Harry meekly. A sudden thought sprung into her head. She could hold his hand if she wanted to. All she had to do was reach down and take it…No, no, no. He probably would reject her if she tried. After all, why on earth would the famous Harry Potter want to hold little Alison Blair's hand after she had been rejected by her friends and brawled in the hallway like a muggle thug?

Madam Pomfery fixed Ali and Pansy (who was admitted in the hospital wing later that day) up easily, but it was clear that the healing of their injuries was not going to solve their problems with each other. Within a day, Pansy had managed to turn all the fourth year Slytherins (and some in other years as well) against Ali, with the exception of Daphne and Blaise (who were remaining neutral), and Tracy, who was fully supportive of Ali. Pansy spread the story that she had been on her way to dinner when Alison, unprovoked, attacked her madly in a jealous rage and she was barely able to defend herself. Unfortunately most of the bystanders of the confrontation had been Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, who didn't set the story straight due to obvious prejudices against Ali (she had made their lives miserable for years).

Professor Snape contacted the girls the next day during dinner to resolve the issue. Once they were seated in his office, he began to question them.

"Well Parkinson, Blair. What was this whole thing about?" he drawled, pushing some greasy hair off his face. It was unusual for two students from Slytherin house to fight; normally it was a Gryffindor and a Slytherin who had the major blowouts.

"She started it!" shrieked Pansy, pointing an accusatory finger at Ali. "I was walking to dinner, minding my own business, when she attacked me! She hit me over and over. It was _terrifying_," she said with a dramatic sigh, turning wide, fearful eyes to Snape, who raised a solitary eyebrow.

"I am sympathetic towards your—_struggle_—Miss Parkinson, but I don't see why Blair would have any reason to attack you out of the blue," he said. Ali breathed a sigh of relief. She had been sure that Snape would have taken Pansy's side.

"I don't know why," Pansy said with an obviously fake sorrowful sniff. "She's probably jealous of me!"

"Why on Earth would I be jealous of _you_?" Ali said skeptically, even though she knew why some would think she definitely had good reason to be jealous of Pansy. After all, Pansy was the perfect pureblood, on the arm of Draco Malfoy (Although it must be said that she slightly annoyed him). Ali had spent three years modeling herself after Pansy and some of those feelings were definitely still there. But they had partially been replaced by a new feeling: gratefulness. She was grateful for having a family that loved her even when she wasn't perfect, and grateful for having a future ahead of her that didn't revolve around how she was regarded in a stuck-up society.

"Oh, I don't know," Pansy said. Ali knew that she didn't want to say "because I'm a pureblood and she's a mudblood". It was too close the truth about what actually happened. Ali knew how Pansy's brain worked, knew that she thought it was much safer to stick with a vague answer.

"Well Blair? What do you think of all this?" Snape asked somewhat indifferently. Ali took a deep breath, quickly planning her response.

"Pansy said something nasty to Ernie MacMillan and I defended him. She then made fun of my blood status and called me a mudblood. I defended myself." Snape gave her a cynical look that clearly spelled that he didn't believe her. His eyes seemed to bore into her, as if he was reading her thoughts.

"Well," he finally said, "I believe the right thing to do would be to deduct ten points from Slytherin each, and please keep things civil after this incident or I will have no choice but to give you each detention. You may go."

Pansy and Daphne left Snape's office quickly, glaring malevolently at each other. Eventually they went their separate ways and Ali continued to the Library hoping to get some homework done. Thinking absentmindedly about the events of the previous two days, she bumped right into someone heading in the opposite direction. It was Regan.

"S-sorry," she stuttered quickly, looking into her sister's eyes searchingly. Regan didn't seem particularly angry anymore. In fact, Ali couldn't really tell what her sister was feeling.

"Is it true?" blurted Regan. Ali gazed at her, confused. "Is it true that you defended Ernie, Hermione, and Ron when Pansy mouthed off at them?"

"Oh, yeah," Ali replied. "I did. I suppose you think I staged that too, right? So I could manipulate you and all your friends even more? I suppose you think that I had _some _ulterior motive when I attacked Pansy."

"No, I didn't," Regan said, looking at her with big, remorseful eyes. "I wanted to say thank you for that. I know it must have been hard for you when Pansy called you a…Well, you know. Thanks for sticking up for my friends."

"I just want us to be close again," Ali said suddenly, wanting to set this straight once and for all. "I want us to be like we used to. Back before we both came to Hogwarts. I'm sorry I treated you like I did. Most of the Slytherins hate me now, so unless I have you I'm pretty much alone."

"I'm sorry too," replied Regan, a tear glistening in the corner of one brown eye. "I shouldn't have assumed that you were out to get me and Harry when you tried to apologize earlier. I judged you too quickly. I'm really, really sorry, Ali."

"So are we friends now?" Ali asked, feeling a twinge of hope. Regan smiled.

"Of course we are," she answered. "We always have been."

"I'm going to hug you now," Ali said, wrapping her arms around her sister and for a minute, they just stood there like that. Feelings of warmth, family, and friendship surged through Ali, and for the first time in three years, she felt completely at ease.

"Well," Ali said when they finally broke apart. "I need to work on McGonagall's three foot essay. Wanna come?"

"I would love to," replied to Regan. The two girls held hands and set off together, both savoring the new feeling of companionship they had created.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.**

After classes on Friday the 30th, Snape ushered the Slytherins into a line in the entrance hall, the other Heads doing the same with the students in their Houses. Some were attempting to smarten their students up, although Snape thought those sorts of things rather pointless. McGonagall, on the other hand, was worked up over making a good impression.

"Weasley, straighten your hat," she barked. "Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair." Parvati Patil scowled before removing her favorite ornamental butterfly from her long plait.

Ali smoothed her own hair, feeling a combination of nerves an excitement. She had made an effort to look especially nice (although Slytherins almost always went around neat as a pin) in an effort to impress the foreign students arriving. She was hoping that maybe she could find a friend in one of them, especially since the majority of Slytherin was still being icy to her. On the bright side, the Gryffindors seemed slightly friendlier and Daphne was still acting like they were friends.

"Follow me, no pushing," Snape drawled, ushering them through the entrance hall doors. Soon they were all lined up in front of the castle tidily, waiting in giddy anticipation. There was a moment of tense silence, and then:

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons arrives," exclaimed Dumbledore.

"Where?" the students chorused looking in different directions. Ali squinted up at the sky, examining it for signs of Beauxbaton's arrival. There was a small black dot that was rapidly growing in size as it approached the castle…

"It's a dragon!" a first year Hufflepuff shrieked, losing what little composure she had completely. Dennis Creevey, a puny Gryffindor snapped in response.

"Don't be stupid, it's a flying house!"

As it turned out, it was actually a humongous powder blue carriage pulled by monstrous palomino pegasi the size of elephants. The students leaned back as the carriage hurtled forward, eventually descending. As soon as it had touched the chilled ground, a boy in pale blue robes made of silk jumped down, fumbling to open the door. He sprang back respectfully. A sparkling black shoe the size of a child's sled immediately emerged, followed by a woman taller than Hagrid. She had a handsome, olive skinned face and large opals glinted on her thick throat and fingers. The students began to clap.

The woman's face broke out in a gracious smile as she crossed to Dumbledore, who kissed her hand, barely leaning over to do so.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," Madame Maxime said in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, thank you," responded Dumbledore. The students from Beauxbatons were exiting the carriage, all dressed in blue silk. They were shivering, most likely due to the fact that they were not wearing cloaks, although some had scarves and shawls wrapped around their heads. Madame Maxime and Dumbledore spoke quietly for a moment about the welfare of the winged horses, and after the matter was settled, she turned to her students.

"Come," she commanded imperiously, and they followed her up the stone steps leading to the entrance hall. The Hogwarts students stood quietly, squinting at the sky searchingly for the delegation from Durmstrang. Blaise, who was standing beside Ali, cocked his head.

"What on earth is that strange sucking noise?" he asked to no one in particular. Ali listened closely, deducting that the noise seemed to be coming from the lake. It sounded as if a massive plunger had been pulled from the riverbed. The water's surface was bubbling. A long black pole was emerging. It looked like…

"A mast!" Tracey gasped. The mast was followed by the rest of a large, skeletal ship, portholes shimmering like ghostly eyes. A splash, followed by the thud of an anchor was heard, and a plank was lowered. The Durmstrang students soon disembarked. They were wrapped in shaggy furs. Ali recognized the man leading them as Igor Karkaroff, headmaster of the school. Malfoy had been waving around a picture of him at some point or another, bragging about how he almost attended Durmstrang.

"Dumbledore!" boomed Karkaroff heartily as he approached Hogwarts' Headmaster. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. Karkaroff shot him a yellow smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle. Ali could've imagined it but she swore there was a wary glint in his eyes. "How good it is to be here, how good…Viktor, come along, into the warmth…you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…"

Ali immediately recognized the student he beckoned to. She had seen the think eyebrows, curved nose, and surly expression plastered on Daphne's Quidditch fan girl merchandise. She had missed seeing him in person at the Quidditch World Cup, but there was no mistaking who it was. It was Viktor Krum.

"Oh my goodness, I think I just wet myself," Daphne gasped breathily. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement. "Ali, you don't have a quill by any chance, do you? I simply must have his autograph…"

"I'm afraid I don't, Daph," Ali responded, stifling a laugh at her friend's reaction. Daphne was anxiously peering after the Bulgarian seeker, eyes bright.

"It's a good thing no one but me knows what sort of thoughts are flooding my head right now," she commented. Ali blushed embarrassedly.

"They will if you announce it to everyone, Daphne! Honestly, can't you show some restraint?" she said exasperatedly.

Soon the Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang students were milling around the Great Hall, looking for appropriate seats. Ali noticed that Daphne wasn't the only one fawning over Krum; it seemed like the majority of Hogwarts' female population was acting rather strangely. The Beaxbatons students had seated themselves at the Ravenclaw table and were looking around glumly. The Durmstrang students, however, had chosen to sit at the Slytherin table. Daphne looked as if she was about to faint when Krum seated himself across from her.

"Hi, I'm Alison Blair," Ali said, figuring that being friendly with an international Quidditch star was probably a good thing. "I prefer Ali though." She nudged Daphne in the ribs. "Well, Daph, aren't you going to introduce yourself? This whole tournament is about international magical cooperation, after all."

Daphne made a strange noise deep in her throat, giving Ali a look that could curdle fresh milk. "Er-I'm D-Daphne. Daphne Greengrass," she managed to choke out. Krum gave her a mildly disinterested look.

"Viktor Krum," he said in a thick Bulgarian accent. "It is a pleasure." A brief, uncomfortable silence fell.

"So, how do you like Hogwarts so far?" Ali asked, hoping to ease some of the immense awkwardness. She immediately chided herself. What a dumb question. He had only been at the school for a couple of minutes.

"You have a nice dining hall," Krum said. He gazed at the ceiling, looking mildly impressed. "Very interesting. It resembles the night sky."

"Yep, it does," Ali agreed slightly lamely. She was saved further conversation when Draco Malfoy moved to the seat next to Krum, Crabbe and Goyle flagging him. He immediately began talking, and Ali distinctly heard the words "my father". She suppressed an eye-roll. Krum looked annoyed.

Soon the staff table was filled, with Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, and Professor Karkaroff standing. Eventually they sat, leaving Dumbledore to begin his speech.

"Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, ghosts and—most particularly—guests," he said, beaming. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

A girl from Beauxbatons with an expensive-looking muffler wrapped around her head gave a derisive laugh. Ali glared in her general direction.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

The golden plates filled with food, and the Great Hall immediately erupted with conversation once more. Malfoy continued a long story about his natural talent on a broomstick to Krum, whose expression had progressed from mildly bothered to thoroughly pissed. Ali gave her former friend a disgusted look.

"I'm going to go and sit with Regan for a bit," she announced. Tracey gave her a mournful look.

"Please don't go, Ali. There aren't any foreign students at the Gryffindor table, you know," she said.

"I know, but watching Malfoy kiss up to Krum is enough to make anyone feel nauseated," she said. "Besides, Regan and I are friends again. I want to appreciate it while it lasts."

She got up and crossed to the Gryffindor table, immediately spotting her sister sitting with Harry and his friends. There was an empty seat next to Harry, and she took it quickly.

"Hi Regan, Hi Harry, Ron, Hermione," she greeted, a friendly smile on her face. Regan seemed happy to see her, but Ron and Hermione stared at her suspiciously.

"What are _you _doing here?" Hermione asked. "Shouldn't you be over at the Slytherin table canoodling with the snakes?"

"I'm trying to turn over a new leaf," Ali said with a slight sniff. "Right Regan?" Regan gave her sister a kind smile.

"Ali really wants to be friends, guys. Since she stood up for Ernie most of the Slytherins have been ignoring her and she's feeling sort of alone. She promises to be nice."

"I guess you can sit here then," Ron said, his expression softening. He pushed a dish of goulash towards her as a peace offering. "Want some?" he asked, causing Hermione to roll her eyes.

"That's right Ronald. Extend the hand of friendship through food," the bushy-haired witch said exasperatedly.

"What? Food makes everyone happy except you, Hermione," Ron protested. Hermione gave a haughty sniff.

"_I _don't enjoy it because it's prepared by hundreds of slaves!" she exclaimed, a fierce look in her eyes. She turned to Ali. "Did you know that your meals are cooked, your bed made, and your dormitory and common room cleaned by house-elves?" Ali gave her a "no shit Sherlock" sort of look.

"Um, duh! That's their job, of course they do!" Hermione opened her mouth indignantly to protest, but was stopped when Harry, fearing another S.P.E.W. lecture, quickly changed the subject.

"So, Ali, what do you think of Krum? He was at your table, right?" he asked, giving her an adorable crooked smile that caused her heart to skip a beat. And he remembered her preferred nickname, surprising as he had only referred to her as "Blair" for the last three years.

"Um, yeah, he was. Nothing much to say really. He seems kind of quiet. Malfoy was bragging about his quidditch accomplishments to him and Daphne was in shock. He's been her celebrity crush for ages."

"What quidditch accomplishments?" Harry scoffed. "I've beaten him in every game we've played."

Ron, meanwhile, was still focused on the food. He was examining a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew.

"What's _that_?" he asked, pointing to it.

"Bouillabaisse," answered Hermione promptly.

"Bless you," said Ron.

"It's _French_," said Hermione. "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."

"I'll take your word for it," Ron said, helping himself to black pudding. Ali watched absentmindedly as Harry and Ron spoke to Hagrid, who had lumbered in the hall, feeling somewhat awkward as she had been very rude to the large professor on several occasions. She still thought the Screwts were utterly pointless.

"Excuse me, are you wanting the bouillabaisse?" The girl who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech had arrived at their table. She had removed her muffler, revealing a long sheet of silvery white hair, sapphire blue eyes, and a stunning smile. Ali felt a surge of jealousy. Honestly, she considered herself pretty, but this girl was ethereal.

"Yeah, have it," Harry said, pushing it towards her. Ali felt a small surge of triumph that he seemed indifferent to her obvious beauty, unlike Ron, who had gone purple.

"You 'ave finished wiz it?"

"Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent." Ali noticed that Hermione gave him an indistinct look, something strange flickering in her brown eyes. The girl picked up the dish and returned to the Ravenclaw table.

"She's a _veela_!" gasped Ron. Hermione's mixed expression turned to one of annoyance.

"She is not," she snapped. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot." That wasn't entirely true though, as Ali noticed several boys stop what they were doing to ogle her as she passed, eyes bugging out.

"I'm telling you that's not a normal girl," insisted Ron. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts."

"They make them okay at Hogwarts," said Harry carelessly, his eyes falling on someone at the Ravenclaw table. Ali immediately recognized who it was. So Harry Potter had a crush on Cho Chang, pretty, smart, popular Ravenclaw seeker. Interesting. She felt something stir deep inside her, but she quickly pushed it down, instead giving Harry an encouraging smile.

"Cho Chang, eh? Well, I can't deny that she's pretty, and I can't really see you two as a match. But if she's your type, go for it!" she said. Harry flushed, and Ali couldn't help but think he looked just a tiny bit cute when he was embarrassed.

"When you've both put your eyes back in," said Hermione briskly, "you'll be able to see who's arrived." A pudgy man with a babyish face that Ali immediately recognized had taken a seat at the head table.

"Is that Ludo Bagman? As in beater of the Wimbourine Wasps Ludo Bagman?" Ali asked, earning an appreciative glance from Ron, who seemed surprised that she recognized the former-quidditch player. "I do follow quidditch to the best of my ability, you know," she said, and he smiled. Perhaps they could be quidditch friends.

"Crouch too. Wonder if he's a judge for the Tournament," Harry said, gazing at a neat-as-a-pin elderly man with a stiff expression.

"Who's Crouch?" Ali asked. It felt nice not having to appear all-knowledgeable in order to avoid Pansy's ridicule. Who would've known that she would be enjoying the company of a bunch of Gryffindors?

"He's my brother Percy's boss," said Ron. "Never shuts up about how awesome Crouch is. Doesn't even know Percy's name though. Calls him Weatherby."

Soon, the gold plates wiped clean, marking the end of the feast, and Dumbledore stood. The tension in the hall rose, the air buzzing with anticipation of what was to come.

"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation"—There was a smattering of polite applause—"And Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

A much louder applause echoed through the hall in acknowledgement for Bagman, perhaps due to his fame as a beater, or perhaps because he just seemed more likeable than Crouch, giving the students a jovial wave.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

The attention in the hall further heightened at the mention of the word "champions". Dumbledore, perhaps noticing the sudden stillness of his audience, smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in corner of the hall, wearing a moldy waistcoat, approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted in jewels. It appeared very old. Ali leaned forward slightly.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways…their magical prowess—their daring—their powers of deduction—and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament. One from each of the participation schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: The Goblet of Fire."

The aged Headmaster now took out his wand and tapped the casket three times and the lid creaked open. Dumbledore reached inside and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden goblet that would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been dancing with blue-white flames.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champions must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those competing."

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line. Finally, I wish to impress upon you that once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding magical contract. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name in the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

The hall immediately erupted in noise, benches scraping as people rose to their feet, discussing the tournament. Ali heard Fred Weasley loudly proclaim that he was intending on using an Aging Potion to fool the Age Line. She turned to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Regan.

"Well, Goodnight," she said slightly reluctantly, not looking forward to joining the company of her fellow Slytherins. The golden trio and her sister said goodbye before heading in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. Ali turned and scanned the crowd. Spotting Tracey, she headed to join her friend.

"Guess what?" Tracey immediately said. "Blaise is planning on entering the tournament. Says he doesn't care about a stupid Age Line. He has no chance of making it, though. Any line of Dumbledore's isn't going to be crossed easily.

"I'll bet you a thousand galleons Krum will become Durmstrang's champion," Ali mused.

"I'm going to hold you to that," responded Tracey playfully. The two Slytherin girls headed toward the Slytherin common room, happily discussing the tournament. Tomorrow would be an interesting day.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.**

**Author's Note: Hope you guys enjoyed that. Now that Ali and Pansy aren't friendly she will be spending a lot more time with Harry and their romance will blossom. She might become friends with Fleur Delacour, as I have always had a soft spot for her. Please read and review, and tell me if you have any ideas you'd like me to implement into this story, and I'll do my best.**


	5. Why is it Always Harry?

**Chapter 3: Why is it Always Harry?**

**Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the long update wait, but it's been a rough month for me. I broke my ankle and missed a bit of school, so I was rushing to catch up on everything. I'm good now, and here's the next chapter. Enjoy, read, and please review!**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.**

Ali awoke earlier than usual Saturday morning, feeling an excited hum quivering in her veins. The potential champions would be entering their names. A few days ago she would have hoped that Marcus Flint or another similarly worthy Slytherin would be chosen, but now she wasn't so sure. Who knew, perhaps Cedric Diggory _could _make a good champion. She washed up quickly, threw on some clothes and headed to breakfast. Tracey and Daphne were already there, as well as the rest of the school. It appeared she wasn't the only one having an early morning due to the Tournament.

"Hey Ali, over here! We saved you a seat," Tracey called, patting the spot next to her. Ali plopped down next to her gratefully, glad that they were taking the time to include her when Pansy was glaring venomously at them a little ways down.

"Did you know that the entire lot from Durmstrang got up early and put their names in?" said Daphne immediately, talking a mile a minute. "Of course Krum will be chosen though. I mean he's so strong and handsome and athletic and—"

"Slow down Daph, we already established this," said Ali. "Do you know if anyone from Hogwarts put their names in?"

"Well Flint and Warrington already did," Tracey answered. "And all the Hufflepuffs are blabbering on about Cedric Diggory. Can't say I blame them though, I would certainly love to—"

"Tracey!" Ali sputtered indignantly, curbing the onslaught of inappropriate remarks. Both her friends raised their eyebrows, their faces taking on identical cat-that-ate-the-canary grins.

"Oh come on Alison," Trace said in a voice reminiscent of a teacher showing a two-year-old that two and two did indeed equal four. "We know you're secretly a hopeless romantic and that you're waiting for 'The One', but surely you must also have eyes! You can't deny that he's ridiculously attractive."

"I guess he's not really my type," Ali answered, causing Daphne's eyebrows to inch closer to her hairline.

"What is your type then?" she asked, licking her lips slightly. Ali frowned, contemplating the question. A flash of emerald green eyes and black hair danced at the very edge of her conscience; so obscure she was hardly aware of it.

"I suppose I don't know," Ali answered somewhat truthfully. Daphne sighed disappointedly.

"Come on Ali, you're fifteen years old. You can't hold off on boys forever, you know. Dating is fun!"

"And you've been with how many boys?" Ali asked, knowing it would shut Daphne up immediately. Her friend coughed awkwardly.

"Well, I suppose I've been waiting for 'The One' too, you know? And I think I've found him…" she said, trailing off dreamily. Ali rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, and you call me the romantic one?" she said sarcastically. Daphne was about to retort when Blaise plopped down next to her, proudly holding a small bottle for them all to see.

"Well, I've made it," he announced. "I must say, those Weasley twins may be Gryffindors, but they have the right idea with this whole Age Potion thing. Both of them are utter geniuses." Realizing he had spoken rather loudly, he looked around nervously. "Don't tell anyone I said that," he whispered. No matter how much respect one had for them, publicly complimenting blood traitors was a recipe for trouble.

"Oh my god, you're not _still _thinking about entering, are you?" Ali asked incredulously. "Surely you aren't so dense as to think that any potion you've concocted is going to fool someone like Dumbledore?"

"Standing up for that old bat now, are you Blair?" Pansy's cold drawl interrupted their conversation, the sneer in her voice evident.

"What do you want, Pansy?" Tracey asked. Pansy's pug-like face soon came into view, and Ali glared coldly at her former-friend.

"I came for entertainment," responded Pansy. "It's always delightful to watch dearest Alison stand up for her fellow mudbloods, blood traitors, and wacky old coots." Ali opened her mouth indignantly before she could stop herself.

"I am _not _a wacky old coot!" she exclaimed. Pansy's mouth twisted into a sick smile.

"Could have fooled me, dear." Something nasty glinted in her former-friend's eyes when she spoke again, "You know, Alison, it doesn't have to be like this. I can forgive and forget you know. One nice little prank, one big dose of humiliation for those Gryffindors, and I'll forget everything that's happened these past few days. Everything will be perfect again."

Ali couldn't deny the fact that she considered the offer for a second. It takes more than one petty fight to ruin a friendship for good after all, and her old relationship with Pansy must still be buried somewhere under the spite and lies. But what Pansy did was utterly unforgivable. She would _not _allow her and her sister to be treated like dirt. She would stay strong.

"Those Gryffindors are my friends, and I will not turn my backs on them," she exclaimed with pride in her voice. Pansy raised a solitary eyebrow.

"Suit yourself, my offer remains open," she said briskly before sauntering off. Tracey shook her head disgustedly.

"Don't listen to her, Ali. She's treated you like shit for years." Daphne gave a fake gasp.

"Language, Tracey darling," she reprimanded, causing Tracey to hit her on the arm playfully.

"It's true though!" Tracey said adamantly. "You shouldn't have to put up with all that ridicule, Ali. You're better than that." Ali smiled at her friend.

"I know. That's why I'm sticking with you guys," she said, causing the three friends to smile tenderly. The moment was ruined however, when Blaise found the need to bring the attention back to him.

"Hey, I love female bonding sessions as much as the next guy, but I was kind of hoping for some support here!" he exclaimed somewhat indignantly. "I am entering the Triwizard Tournament after all."

"Honestly Blaise, be a little more arrogant," Ali said with an eye-roll. "I already told you, it's a stupid idea. You're going to end up humiliated at the very least."

"Nice to know I can count on my friends in times of need," Blaise retorted. Ali stood firm.

"Seriously, Blaise. At least watch Fred and George try the Age Potion first and see what happens to them. I don't want you getting hurt."

"Yes Mother," Blaise said sarcastically, causing Ali to scowl.

"Call me that again and I'll humiliate you more than any Age Line could," she said, only half-joking. At that moment, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan ran into the hall, holding small bottles similar to Blaise's aloft. The twins and Lee sauntered over to the Gryffindor table and began to converse quietly with Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"Ready?" Fred asked loudly, attracting the attention of most of the hall. "C'mon then, I'll go first." He extracted a slip of paper bearing the words _Fred Weasley—Hogwarts. _He, George, and Lee all took one small gulp from their bottles, and without any warning, Fred leapt over the age line.

For a second, everyone in the hall thought it had worked. George certainly thought so, for a second later, he joined his brother, whooping triumphantly. After a moment though, a loud sizzling sound came from the age line, and a second later both twins were hurled away, landing in a tangled heap on the floor. When they sat up Ali let out a shout of laughter. Both had long, white beards clinging to their chins in stark contrast to their red hair.

"I won't say I told you so," Ali said smugly to Blaise, who was looking thoroughly put out as he watched Dumbledore enter the hall and send the Weasley Twins to the hospital wing.

"Bummer," he said, gazing moodily at his toast. "I'll think of something else soon though; mark my words." Ali rolled her eyes.

"You never learn, do you?" she said, standing. "I think I'll be going to the library. See you guys later."

She made her way to the entrance hall, absentmindedly mulling over the morning's events and wondering about the champions when she hit something decidedly solid that let out an indignant huff.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," apologized Ali automatically. Looking up, she immediately did a double take at the cloud of shimmering silver hair and sapphire-blue eyes. It was the Beauxbatons girl from the previous night.

"Look where you are going," she said in thick French accent, sounding slightly angrier than necessary.

"I was just lost in my own thoughts and forgot where I was. It's my fault entirely. I'm sorry," said Ali sincerely. The girl's expression softened slightly.

"_Non, _eet is perfectly alright," she said. "I have been distracted lately as well. What is your name?" she asked.

"Alison Blair. I prefer Ali though," she said. "And yours?"

"Fleur Delacour. Eet is a pleasure," said Fleur thickly, extending a delicate hand courteously, leaving Ali confused as to whether she should shake it or-_shudder_-kiss it. She settled on a quick shake.

"Likewise I'm sure. Are you entering the Tournament?" she asked, hoping not to sound nosy. Fleur seemed like the type of person who might be easily offended.

"Yes, I was planning on entering," answered Fleur with a smile, causing Ali to sigh in relief. "You are not though, I presume? Surely you are too young."

"I'm fifteen," Ali replied, automatically defiant. Sure, she wasn't a stunningly beautiful French goddess, but she wasn't exactly a child either. And Fleur's condescending tone was more than a bit annoying.

"Ah," answered Fleur simply, expression neutral. "I 'ave a sister who is slightly younger zan you. 'Er name is Gabrielle."

"I have a little sister too," said Ali, happy that they had something in common. "Her name is Regan. She's eleven and in Gryffindor." Fleur didn't answer, and Ali shifted uncomfortably. "Are you enjoying Hogwarts?" she asked, settling on a generic, non-offensive question.

"I suppose so, zough eet is not nearly as magnificent as Beauxbatons," said Fleur. "And ze food is so rich! I will become fat before long."

Ali snorted. She highly doubted anyone who looked like Fleur could become fat, and even if she did somehow manage to gain weight, she would still be stunningly beautiful. And who was Fleur to criticize Hogwarts anyways? Sure, the castle had its faults, but at the end of the day it was a fine school. She cleared her throat.

"Well, I have to be off to the library. I have a bunch of homework to do," said Ali. "Nice meeting you, Fleur!"

"_Oui_, it has been a pleasure," said Fleur, though she didn't look like she really meant it. "Perhaps I will see you again, _non_?" She sauntered off, slender hips swinging delicately. Ali shook her head slightly dazedly before continuing on her way.

After two essays and a couple of random doodles that for some reason heavily featured lightning bolts, it was time to head to the feast. The Great Hall was decked out in its usual Halloween splendour, glowing mysteriously in the dim candlelight. Ali took a seat next to Blaise, who was gazing at a plate of bat-shaped cakes longingly. Her own stomach rumbled.

"Uggh, I wish they would start already," she said. "I think am going to pass out if I don't eat anything in the next three minutes." Her own stomach growled in agreement, causing Daphne and Tracey to giggle.

"I'm with Ali on this one," Blaise said. "I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse."

"Well I could eat a Hippogriff," retorted Ali.

"And I could eat the Hippogriff's dung," Blaise answered, smiling in satisfaction when Ali wrinkled her nose.

"That is positively disgusting, Blaise," Daphne said. "Honestly, boys are sooooo immature…"

"What about your precious Vicky-Poo?" Tracey asked coyly.

"I would never call Viktor Krum Vicky-Poo!" gasped Daphne indignantly, gazing around anxiously to see if Krum had heard them.

"That's not what you said last night," Ali said mischievously. "Oh, Vicky-Poo, take me on your broomstick and…" She was cut off by a very angry Daphne.

"I never said that!" her friend shrieked, causing half the hall's attention to focus on them. "And my voice is not that high pitched and nasally," she added as an after-thought.

"Do you mind not discussing Daph's imagined sexual shenanigans with Viktor Krum?" Blaise asked, looking mildly nauseated. "I'm actually going to be eating soon you know…"

"Shut up, Viktor might hear you," Daphne snapped, wacking Blaise on the arm as Ali and Tracey dissolved into hysterics.

The feast soon started, most people eating quicker than usual in anticipation of the champion's selection. Daphne chewed in her usual petite increments while Ali and Blaise wolfed down inhumanly large amounts of food. The feast wasn't as delicious as it normally was, perhaps because it was the second one in two days, and soon everyone in the Hall's eyes were trained on Dumbledore, who was still sitting.

Finally, the aged Headmaster got to his feet.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," he said, smiling broadly. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champion's names are called, I would ask them to please come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through the next chamber where they will receive their first instructions."

He took his wand and extinguished the flames in Hagrid's pumpkins, leaving the Goblet easily the brightest thing in the hall. A buzz of excitement hovered around the students, several leaning forward in anticipation. Suddenly, the flames turned to a vivid red, a tongue of flame carrying a slip of charred parchment, which Dumbledore caught easily.

"The champion for Durmstrang is Viktor Krum!" he announced, and the entire hall erupted into ridiculously noisy applause.

"Good job Viktor!" Daphne shrieked, standing on her seat in the hopes that he would see her.

"Good job Vicky Poo," Ali imitated, her inner Slytherin provoked. "Can we have hot, kinky sex on a dewy field of lilacs yet?"

She was saved from Daphne's ensuing fist when a second slip of parchment was caught by Dumbledore.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour," said the Headmaster. Fleur stood gracefully, looking rather haughty as she sauntered off to the chamber, platinum hair swinging behind her. Several boys started to drool. Glancing over at the Gryffindor table, Ali saw that Ron had turned purple yet again.

A third slip of parchment was soon being unfolded in Dumbledore's aged hands.

"The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory," he called.

"You've got to be kidding me," Blaise groaned, but all grumbles and moans were blocked out by the uproar from the Hufflepuff table. Cedric grinned broadly as he made his way to the chamber, and it became more apparent to Ali that he was indeed good looking with his wavy brown hair and grey eyes.

"Excellent," Dumbledore called happily. "We now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—"

He stopped abruptly, and it immediately became clear what had distracted him. The fire in the Goblet burned vividly red once more, and one charred slip of parchment flew into the air. As Dumbledore automatically caught it, Ali was overwhelmed by a sudden, irrational feeling of dread. She wiped a drop of cold sweat from her brow, gazing at the Headmaster, who had cleared his throat and read out—

"_Harry Potter."_

It was as if the entire hall had been engulfed by some surreal nightmare. Ali's thoughts seemed unable to gather themselves, all she could do was feel a sort of blind panic for Harry. _Oh God, oh God, what's happening?_

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called once more. "Harry! Up here, if you please."

Ali craned her neck. Harry had risen from the Gryffindor table, looking small and stunned. His already fair skin had turned deathly pale, and his emerald eyes showed no emotion other than surprise and fear. No triumph. Ali knew then that whatever horrible thing was happening right now, it wasn't his fault, he didn't mean for it to happen. As Harry made his way up to the top table slowly, he caught Ali's eye for a split second. She nodded, wanting him to know that she was on his side. That she was just as scared for him as he was.

"Well, through the door Harry," said Dumbledore. Harry opened it slowly and disappeared. For a moment, the hall was entirely silent. Dumbledore stood and smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Well, It's been a long night and you should all be off to bed. Away with you now, chop, chop. I'm sure everything will be sorted out in the morning," he said as convincingly as he could muster. He then hurried into the chamber, followed by Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Moody, as well as Bagman and Crouch.

An awkward, nervous buzz immediately filled the hall, mingled with the scraping of benches as people rose to her feet. Ali felt dizzy and slightly ill, as if she were about to faint or scream.

"Potter cheated," Blaise said bluntly, his eyes emotionless. "I have no clue how he did it, but he definitely cheated. Stupid prat…" Ali snapped. Eyes blazing with fury, she grabbed Blaise by his nicely-pressed collar and pinned him to the wall.

"Listen up, Zabini," she growled, causing Blaise to gulp. "Harry didn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire. I don't know if your jealous of him or what, but…"

"I hate to say this Ali, but Blaise has a point," Daphne said. "Potter loves attention, of course he entered. He's probably just looking for a little more fame." She raised her hands nervously when faced with Ali's wrath.

"Are you honestly that stupid?" she asked angrily. "How on Earth could he have put his name in, huh? He's not nearly powerful enough to trick the Goblet. Did you see how scared he looked when he heard his name? That was not the face of someone seeking extra 'fame' or 'fortune' or whatever the hell it is you think he's afte…"

"If you think about it logically, he could have easily asked one of the Gryffindor seventh years to put it in for him. All three of their Quidditch team's chasers are of age," Tracey pointed out quietly.

"Exactly," Daphne agreed. "In fact, I remember overhearing Angelina Johnson tell Katie Bell that she was planning on entering her name this morning. She could have easily slipped his name in with hers."

"I'm telling you, Harry wouldn't do something like that!" exclaimed Ali indignantly. "He's much too honorable, and kind, and…"

"Something you're not telling us, dear?" Blaise asked with a smirk.

"NO!" shrieked Ali, frightening several Ravenclaw first-years. "And anyways, now is not the time! Don't any of you believe me?"

Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise exchanged shifty glances. Ali threw her hands up in exasperation with a huff.

"Fine, be like that!" she said. "I'm going to bed." Turning on her heel, she stormed off.

Ali lay silently in bed that night, quietly mulling things over. She wondered if Harry was in bed too, if he was quivering in fear like she was. Perhaps he was celebrating with his housemates. Somehow, though, she didn't think so. She couldn't shake his ashen expression when his name was called. Sitting up, Ali readjusted her pillow and plopped down again, resolving to talk to Harry in the morning before she drifted into a worried, uncomfortable sleep.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.**

Harry Potter was having one of the most miserable days in his life, and that was saying something considering the amount of shitty things he'd been put through in the last three years. First, three of the four Houses were furious at him for putting his name in the Goblet of Fire, and all his housemates were doing was celebrating their underage champion (of course they thought he entered himself too). Ron was angry with him as well, although Hermione at least seemed to believe him. Of course, she did still have to subject him to a lengthy analysis of Ron's arse-like behaviour, attributing it to jealousy.

He had headed up to the Owlery in defeat, hoping to write to Sirius. Hedwig, of course, was annoyed with him as Sirius had instructed him to use a different owl because she could potentially attract dangerous attention. Just as he had finished tying his letter to the leg of a school screech owl, the door creaked open, revealing Alison Blair.

"Come to get pissed off at me as well, have you?" he snapped, causing her eyes to widen slightly in hurt. He only felt slightly remorseful. He really wasn't in the mood to converse with a Slytherin, repentant or not.

"S-sorry," Ali stuttered. "I ran into Grang—er, Hermione on my way up and she told me I could find you here."

"What did you want to find me for?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. He certainly felt more friendly towards her since she confronted Pansy, but, to quote Moody; "Constant Vigilance!"

"I wanted to tell you that I believe you," Ali said. He opened his mouth, but she held up a dainty hand. "Let me talk," she ordered. "Look, I know you don't trust me completely. I'm glad we're a little friendlier, but I understand you must be suspicious of a lot of things since last night. I just want you to know that I'm on your side."

She smiled broadly at him, causing Harry to feel a little tingle of excitement in his chest. Here, at last, was someone who believed him completely without questioning him. He returned the smile willingly, not able to help but notice that she looked rather pretty in her twilight blue jumper and skirt.

"Thanks. It means a lot to have someone finally say that," he said, every word ringing with honesty. "If you don't mind my asking, how did you know?"

"I saw it in your eyes," answered Ali solemnly. "You looked so…scared. And stunned. I just thought that if you entered the Tournament on purpose you would have looked happier. More triumphant, if you know what I mean?"

"You're right about that," Harry said somewhat wryly. "Everyone keeps forgetting I'm not a little kid out to get more fame. To quote Fleur Delacour; 'Zey are saying zat zis boy is to compete also!'"

"Oh my, said that, did she?" Ali said with a giggle. "You did look rather small. I suppose you're disappointed that you have no chance in dating her, _non_?" she said, slightly imitating Fleur's thick accent.

"Nah, I fancy Cho, remember?" said Harry. For some reason, he didn't mind sharing that embarrassing little crush with her. He knew, somehow, that she wouldn't tell any of the Slytherins. Something flickered in her eyes though, but Harry couldn't place it.

"I suppose blondes aren't your type then?" asked Ali, twisting a strand of sunny hair between her fingers. Her eyes were sparkling again, and Harry felt a something akin to a somersault in his stomach when he realized that they were probably the bluest eyes he'd ever seen (other than Fleur Delacour, but she was _unnatural_)

"I dunno, I could get used to them if I tried," he said before he could stop himself, feeling a rush at his own daring. He was only partly joking.

"I'll have to keep that in mind," Ali responded, her voice suddenly slightly breathy. Harry gulped awkwardly. A second later though, she shook her head as if a awaking from a slight trance. "Harry, I want you to promise to be careful," she said seriously.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I already heard it from Hermione and I'm sure I'll hear it from—" he quickly stopped himself from saying Sirius' name "from Dumbledore soon as well." Ali gave him a quizzical look, his close call certainly not lost on her.

"I know you know," she continued. "Promise me anyway. Promise," she insisted, her voice so solemn that Harry could help but oblige.

"I promise I'll be safe," he recited. She nodded her head in satisfaction and the next second she hurtled herself into his arms, wrapping him in a tight hug.

Harry had been hugged by Hermione multiple times, and although Ginny was usually far too nervous around him to hug him, she'd given him friendly half-squeezes. This hug felt much different from any of those though. For one, Hermione and Ginny were more like sisters to him than anything else (although Ginny was harboring extremely painful crush on him). In fact, he sometimes forgot that Hermione was a girl. Allison though, was definitely a girl. A pretty, non-sisterly girl who now was pressed to him chest-to-chest. He could actually feel her…no, bad Harry, Bad Harry! Those sorts of thoughts could get him into big trouble.

Ali broke away from after what seemed like an eternity, her face slightly flushed (from happiness or embarrassment, he didn't know). He blushed a bit too, and for an incredibly uncomfortable moment they just sort of stood there staring and blushing.

"Well…can I walk with you?" Ali asked, smiling broadly. Harry nodded.

"Sure, but I'd rather not go to the Great Hall if you don't mind," he said. "Everyone's kind of mad at me and…"

"Oh, of course!" Ali said enthusiastically. "I totally understand. Maybe we could head down to the lake and talk a bit."

The two fourth-years went on their way, chatting like old friends. Harry smiled. Who would have known he was enjoying the company of a Slytherin of all people? During their walk, he learned that Alison loved horses, dance, horror movies, and strawberry ice cream. He in turn told her all about the Dursleys, appreciating her horrified gasps when she heard of Dudley's various bullying escapades. He admitted that he didn't know what sort of ice cream he like best, as he hadn't had much ice cream before. Ali assured him whole-heartedly that they would discover his flavor preferences soon, causing a little flutter in his chest that they would be spending time together in the future.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.**

Ali was, in a word, ecstatic that she was managing to get along fine with Harry Potter. Harry Potter, of all people! Not only did she cheer him up, but he seemed genuinely interested in talking to her. Perhaps they could become good friends. Perhaps, eventually, she would become good friends with all of the Gryffindors, and maybe visit the Weasleys just like Harry and Hermione did, and make jokes about all the dumb Slytherins like Draco and Pansy together and…no, she was getting ahead of herself. She ought to focus on becoming friends with Harry before anything else.

Unfortunately, she didn't get a chance to speak to Harry immediately in Care of Magical Creatures the next day, due to the lesson assigned. Hagrid had cheerfully informed them that they would be attempting to walk the Screwts, although the idea had fizzled (quite literally) away along with the hems of several robes and the burning of many fingers.

She hoped, perhaps, they would speak in Potions, although when she arrived outside the dungeons before the start of the lesson, it became apparent that she would have to deal with the idiocies of Draco Malfoy before talking to Harry. He was standing with his usual cronies, all showing off brightly colored badges that read:

**Support CEDRIC DIGGORY—**

**The REAL Hogwarts Champion!**

"Like them, Potter?" Malfoy asked loudly, and Ali whirled around to see Harry standing with Hermione. "And this isn't all they do—look!" Pressing the badge, the message immediately changed.

**POTTER STINKS**

"I suppose you think that's clever?" Ali immediately snapped. "I mean, _honestly _Draco! Your creativity has truly reached rock bottom this time."

"Stuff it, Blair," Malfoy growled, his ears tinged with an ugly shade of pink.

"Oh come on Draco, surely that's not the best you can do?" continued Ali. "I mean, that's like me making badges saying 'Support Harry Potter, the REAL Hogwarts champion—Malfoy is Stupid', when I could always say 'Malfoy is a bouncing ferret with an IQ smaller than his shoe size'."

"Don't pretend to be such a smart-ass, Blair," Malfoy retorted, his entire face magenta. "Why not leave that to that buck-toothed, know-it-all mudblood?" he continuing, causing Hermione to raise a self-conscious hand to her mouth. "Oh wait, I forgot. You're one too!"

"Tread carefully Malfoy, and maybe I won't completely disfigure you," Ali growled, extracting her wand. Malfoy's eyes darted warily to Crabbe and Goyle.

"Ha, like you could do anything to me," he said with clearly false confidence. Ali raised her eyebrows and brandished her wand threateningly, ignoring the fact that if he wanted to, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle could easily overtake her.

"With a little help she could." Ali whirled around, seeing Harry raising his wand as well.

"Harry, stop—it's not worth it," Hermione protested, but to no avail. If there was one thing Ali knew about Harry Potter, it was that he was stubborn as an ox.

"Go on then Potter," Malfoy taunted. "Or are you just going to snivel behind Blair's skirts like a scared little boy? Perhaps you might like to look up them too, while you're at it? Can't say that I blame you, mudbloods only are good for one thing."

"This is your last warning Malfoy, shut up now and no one gets hurt!" said Harry, now tinged pink.

"Go ahead, Potter," Malfoy egged on. "No Moody here to save your arse this time."

"_Furnunculous!" _yelled Harry, just as Malfoy shrieked _"Densaugeo!"_ The spells met in midair, and Ali immediately put her dancers reflexes to good use, throwing her self out of the way. Hermione and Goyle were not so lucky. Goyle's face erupted in nasty boils while Hermione covered her mouth, whimpering in pain and terror. It took Ali a split second to realize what had happened: Hermione's already-large front teeth were growing rapidly, now passing her bottom lip and approaching her chin.

"Hermione!" Weasle—Ron had rushed forward and pulled Hermione's hands from her mouth, exposing the beaver-like teeth to the world. Pansy, Malfoy, and their posse immediately burst into malicious laughter. Ali glared malevolently at them, throwing a supportive arm over Granger, who, surprisingly enough, left it there.

"And what is this noise all about?" said a soft, deadly voice. Snape had arrived, cloak billowing in its normal dramatic fashion. He took one look at Goyle's boils and pointed to Malfoy. "Explain."

"Potter attacked me sir—" Malfoy immediately burst.

"They attacked each other sir, Malfoy provoked Harry," Ali immediately snapped before Harry had the chance to respond.

"And he hit Goyle—Look!"

"Look what Malfoy did to Hermione!" exclaimed Harry, forcing the poor girl to show her teeth, which were becoming most difficult to cover up.

"Hospital Wing, Goyle," Snape said indifferently before examining Hermione. Finally, he said cruelly, "I see no difference."

It was probably a good thing Harry and Ron were shouting as well, because Ali screamed things that would have made Linda Blair proud and most certainly would have gotten her a month's worth of detention. Snape got the gist of it though, as made apparent by the eyebrow approaching his greasy hairline.

"Let's see, fifty points from Gryffindor, twenty-five from Slytherin and detention for all of you. Inside or it will be a week's worth of detention," he said. Hermione let out an agonized moan and scurried away. Ali, who was thoroughly outraged by the whole incident and feeling rather bad for Hermione, followed her.

She caught up to Hermione before the sobbing girl reached the hospital wing. Her teeth had stopped growing, thank goodness, but were quite ridiculous and making it very hard for the poor girl to speak.

"Whaddya want?" Hermione said thickly, not able to help but mumble.

"Are you okay?" asked Ali, concerned. "That was really mean of Snape…and Malfoy. And Pansy, I guess. You're teeth are fine. Well obviously they aren't fine now, but they _were _fine before that stupid git…"

"I know I'm nod dat preddy," Hermione said, cutting of Ali's ramblings. "Bud I never really cared before. I don'd even care whad people say aboud me, as long as I ged good grades."

"You _are _pretty Hermione," reassured Ali, and to her surprise she actually found she meant it. There was something striking about the girl's fair, crystal clear complexion and almond brown eyes that made you want to look at her again. Maybe if she did something about the hair and teeth… "You know, you could always ask Madame Pomfrey to shrink them smaller than their original size. I mean, I'll understand if you want to let them be and all but…"

"I can'd," wailed Hermione. "My mum and dad are dendisds and don'd dink magic and deeth should mix."

"Leave them be then," Ali said with a shrug. "Looks aren't everything, you know. Like you said, being smart is important too, and you're the smartest witch in the year."

"Danks," Hermione said with a watery smile. "Maybe I could shrink dem dough. I could jusd led her carry on a bid undil dey're normal."

"You definitely could," agreed Ali, nodding enthusiastically. "And if you wanted help with your hair…well, I'm not very good at it but Daphne and Blaise are both stylists in the making." Seeing Hermione's expression, she giggled. "No, Blaise isn't gay. His mum is a high-fashion model so she teaches him beauty stuff. Anyways, if you ever wanted help, you could always talk to me."

"Okay," said Hermione, although she looked a bit doubtful. "Dis isn'd a joke, is id?" Alison sighed exasperatedly.

"No, it isn't," she said. "God, I have no idea why everyone thinks I'm so evil! I guess it could be because I was a nasty, bigoted bitch for three years, but still…" Hermione blushed slightly at the language.

"Sorry," she said. "You've been really nice and I jusd wondered if…"

"I promise I don't have any ulterior motives. And if I ever do, I promise to tell you," Ali reassured. "Do you want me to walk with you the rest of the way?"

"No, dat's okay," answered Hermione. "Danks again, Allison," she said, sounding more like herself.

"It's Ali, please!" Ali called as Hermione continued to the hospital wing, looking decidedly more cheerful. She acknowledged Ali with a small wave before turning the corner.

Ali definitely wasn't looking forward to returning to Potions and facing Snape's wrath, but she couldn't help but feel proud of herself. It felt…nice, being kind to people. She felt warm and fuzzy inside, like maybe everything _would _work out okay. Maybe she would even have a new group of friends before long.

That night, she wrote to her parents again, writing more than she had since her first year. An owl hooted outside and she curled up under her quilt, quill scratching away.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_ I've had such an exciting week! I know I wrote to you briefly about the Triwizard Tournament, and last night the champions were selected. The Bulgarian seeker Daphne has a crush on, Viktor Krum, was chosen, as well as a super beautiful French girl named Fleur Delacour. Hogwarts actually had two champions selected, which technically isn't supposed to happen. One is Cedric Diggory, and the other is Harry Potter, even though he's technically not old enough._

Ali paused, absentmindedly biting the end of her eagle feather quill. She had been whining about Harry and his friends in her letters for three years, and couldn't help but imagine her parent's surprise when they read his name without it being followed by a nasty insult.

_Everyone here believes that he cheated to enter, but I don't think he did. Harry's actually really nice, and I think we're becoming friends. Pansy has always been a little mean, but Harry seems really honest and kind. Hermione Granger is okay too, even if she is a bit of a know-it-all. Blaise keeps pestering me about asking for some of mum's famous gingerbread, so if you could make send some, that would be amazing._

_Lot's of Love,_

_Ali_

She sealed the letter and attached it to Orion's leg. He gave a happy sort of hoop before flying away. Sighing contentedly, Ali closed her eyes fell asleep, dreaming of emerald green eyes and fresh gingerbread.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.**

**A/N: Please read and review! Love all feedback and comments.**


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